Take Us to the Start
by Fib1123581321
Summary: Five years ago, Finnick Odair won the Hunger Games. Now, he is a mentor to the young, shy Annie Cresta. She doesn't stand a chance of winning, but when Finnick begins to fall for her, he's determined to get her home alive.
1. A Perfect Day

****_**Note:** Hi, and Happy Hunger Games! The following is a fan-fiction (pre-The Hunger Games in time period) that follows Finnick Odair through his mentorship of Annie Cresta in the 70th Games. It is canon to the books, but is _not_ canon to the recent Mainstay Pro Finnick/Annie fan-vid. Anyway, the story is named after a music album by Matt Hires (do check him out if you haven't heard of him), and each of the eleven chapters will be named after one of the songs on that album._

_Of course, setting and characters belong to Suzanne Collins. I hope you all enjoy reading!_

_-Hailey_

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><p><strong>1 – A Perfect Day<strong>

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><p>'<em>Let's not run and hide from the truth that we know inside. Life can trip you up on a perfect day.' –"A Perfect Day" (Matt Hires)<em>

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><p>Reaping day is my favorite day of the year. People don't seem to understand that when I tell them, which is why I've learned not to. I could try to explain it to them. I could try to explain the oddly calming sound of the waves crashing against the pier. I could try to explain the callousness behind the comfort I feel in knowing that my name won't be called, and how apathetic I feel about the names that will be. I could try to explain that being a mentor gives me an excuse to leave without actually having to say goodbye. But because I have an appearance to keep up, I think it's best if I deny it… if I lie… if I pretend.<p>

I wake up on reaping day before my alarm goes off. I'm lying on my back on the floor because I haven't been able to sleep in a bed since I came home from the Games, and I wait for the beep while watching the sun rise over the Victor's Beach. When I hear the sound, I sit up and turn off the clock, and my hand brushes over a letter that's been sitting on my bedside table, and soon the letter is sliding across the driftwood floor. As I stand up, not bothering to put on a shirt (the Capitol insists every year that I remain bare-chested), I unfold the letter and read:

_To Mr. Finnick Odair,_

_ Please accept my most sincere congratulations on your impressive victory in the 65__th__ annual Hunger Games. Though I am sure a house has been secured for you in the Victor's Village of District 4, I would like to invite you to take a permanent residence here in the Capitol. You are most welcome to reside in any home you please, of course, and furnishings will be provided upon your request. I am looking forward to hearing your response._

_Best regards,_

_Mr. President Snow_

_The Capitol_

The letter is dated from nearly five years ago. I never replied, and I doubt that I ever will. Being in the Capitol isn't the problem, though; I spend a good chunk of the year there anyway. It's what Snow wants me there _for_ that I'm not about to give in to. Plus, I can't leave my mother here, and something tells me that Snow wouldn't be so enthusiastic about my arrival if I showed up with Mommy in tow.

So, for what must be the hundredth time, I refold the letter and set it back down on my bedside table. Then I walk across the brightly lit room to my closet, put on my best pair of swim trunks, and head down the hall.

My mother, Nola Odair, is lying on her side, her eyes staring through the wall of windows to her right. From what I can tell, she looks the same as yesterday, but that's not exactly a good thing. Not bad, but definitely not good.

"How are you doing today?" I ask as I take the day's clothes out of her dresser.

She's sitting up now, and she's picked up the calendar that I mark off every night after she goes to sleep. "It's reaping day," she says.

"Yeah." I wish I could lie to her, but I've never been able to. Even when Snow makes me lie to all of Panem, I still can't lie to my mom.

"I didn't realize it had been that long," she says. She's referring to the amount of time that's passed since I came home from the last Games, the one where my tribute stabbed himself in the chest on his first day in the arena. I came back over six months ago, but I know that she thinks it's only been a few weeks. Her dementia has reached a whole new level this year.

I walk around her bed and help her get dressed. "I hate reaping day," she says.

"I know."

After I've tied up her shoes, she looks at me with her big brown eyes and sighs. Then her hand is on my cheek and I reach my own hand up to take hers and then kiss it. We do this every year before I leave, instead of saying goodbye. We don't believe in saying goodbye, even though we both know that she might not be here when I return.

"I have to go," I tell her. I don't say that I'll see her soon, because I might not, and because I can't lie to her.

I write a short note for her doctor to remind him that I'll be gone for the duration of the Games and tape it to the front door. Then I walk across the beach, picking up a lone sand dollar off the shore, and don't bother knocking as I step inside an old house that used to be blue, but has now faded to a dingy off-white color.

"All right, Mags, I've got my dollar and I'm ready for the toss!" I call from the entryway.

"I want heads," a voice croaks from the other side of the house, where the kitchen is. A moment later, a short, white-haired woman emerges from the source of the noise. She's dressed in a light purple blouse, no doubt the best one she owns, and as she appears by my side after three confident strides, I'm reminded all over again just how sick my mother is.

Mags, my fellow mentor, turned seventy-five this year, over twenty years older than my mother. Mags was the victor of one of the first Games the Capitol hosted, but she seems healthier now than ever before.

"I'm shocked by your decision," I say sarcastically as she puts a pair of shoes on. She always chooses heads, she always wins the toss, and she always takes the girl. She says the girls are easier to deal with because they go into the Games with much less confidence, and subsequently much less hope, than the boys do. I don't question this, because she has decades more experience than I do, and because I was one of those boys not so long ago. I just happened to be a very lucky one.

She laughs at my comment and then I toss the sand dollar into the air and it lands in the palm of my hand. I flip it onto my other hand and then uncover it. For the first time in five years, it's sitting on the tails side.

Mags's face drops in surprise, as I'm sure mine does as well. I've never had to make the decision before, and so I don't know how to make it now. But when Mags gives me a look that I can sense hides a threat behind her clenched jaw, I say, "I want the girl."

She walks out the door without saying anything and I follow her with a spiteful smirk on my face. I don't really care if I get the boy or the girl, but I do enjoy toying with Mags every chance I get. Doing so makes being a mentor so much more interesting.

As we walk into town, I wonder to myself if any of the other mentors choose their tributes this way. Some of them don't have to, like District 12 and like Mags before I came around, because they only have one mentor to begin with. Others, like District 2, have more than are needed, so they tend to take turns at the job. Districts with a pair of mentors can either split their training and each take a tribute, like what Mags and I do, or they can work together on the boy and the girl. For those that do separate the tributes, I bet they don't do it over a coin toss.

We have to walk past the old memorial and through the wharf on our way to the pier. The memorial is a statue of an old shipping boat that crashed into the wharf thirteen years ago. There's a sign on it that lists the names of those who died in the accident. My father's name is the twenty-ninth on the list, which I've had memorized since the day it was put up, when I was a mere six years old.

The wharf is built atop the water, and houses most of the town's buildings. There are a couple of fishermen shops and boating stores, some restaurants that serve seafood all day, and a fairly new bar that I'm pretty sure was built for me.

After hearing about some of the victors from other districts when they came home from the Capitol, the district council seemed to be under the impression that I would need incredible doses of alcohol to cope with the trauma I endured while in the arena. They might be right about the trauma, but I don't want their shots. In fact, I've never stepped foot in that bar.

We're at the pier with only a few minutes to spare; it's completely filled with people already. The young girls, age twelve to eighteen, have been corralled onto one side of the pier, the boys onto the other. Their families, worried mothers with their faces buried in their husbands' chests, younger siblings sucking their thumbs and looking all around to try to decipher what's going on, and older siblings standing firmly with their arms crossed as they silently defy the Capitol's idea of entertainment, stand in a jumbled mess toward the back.

In front of all the people, at the other end of the pier where the water is too deep for the wooden stilts to give any further support, is where the Justice Building was built. It's old and decrepit now, and I know it's only standing because of the rock that spikes up from the sea and forms the base of the building's back half. None of that is visible at the moment, though, as the building is hidden by an enormous screen that will soon show my face alongside Mags, and later the faces of the two new tributes. Dax Dirigible, the Capitol's escort for District 4, stands in front of the screen, and he motions for Mags and me to come forward.

We follow his orders, and as we walk down the aisle that's been formed between the girls and the boys, I can feel people staring at me. It's not nearly as bad as it is in the Capitol, but it still lets me know that I need to turn my game face on. That's when I think of Dax: his perfectly fitted suit, his waxed chin, and his enormous smile that most people can't get enough of, but that I find rather disturbing. He's only about ten years older than I am, and he's always the one whose presence I try to replicate.

That's what makes me smile and wink at some of the pre-teen girls as I put a hand on my hip and hop up onto the platform in front of the screen. I pick up the trident that's waiting for me there and strike a pose next to Mags, who scoffs at the act. Dax, on the other hand, gives me a nod to show that he's happy with my performance, as he takes his place beside me. Finally, the mayor climbs onto the stage from behind and goes up to the podium to address the whole of District 4, telling them to turn their attention to the front.

He recounts the entire history of Panem at a snail's pace, making my cheeks go numb from the smile I'm trying to keep plastered across my blemish-free skin. He talks about the disasters that divided North America into thirteen districts and a Capitol, then the Dark Days when the districts rebelled against the Capitol, losing the fight as well as the entirety of District 13. He then tells us that's how the Hunger Games were created, to remind us all of what could happen if we ever try to rebel against the Capitol again.

Then the mayor gets into the rules of the Games, making them sound much more complicated than they actually are. Twenty-four tributes, a girl and a boy from each district, are taken to the Capitol, where they are placed into a man-made arena and must fight to their deaths until only one remains. That's really all anybody needs to know.

This prompts him to read through the list of District 4's winning tributes, every victor we've ever had. There was one before Mags that died when I was young, and barely anybody claps for him. Then the mayor talks about Mags, and she steps forward to receive her applause. I'm next, and I get the most clapping by far. I lift my trident and smile again, opening my arms to my adorning fans and giving the cameras a model-worthy gaze that will be sure to have the Capitol girls reeling with excitement. I try to be proud of my beauty, of my success, of my God-like status. I pretend.

Dax is up next. When the people pipe down and when the mayor finally finishes his speech, he calls on the man from the Capitol, and Dax approaches the podium.

"Hello everyone!" he says cheerfully. He doesn't receive a response. With a tiny chuckle, he continues, "It was only five years ago that I stood on this pier and called the name of a fourteen year-old Finnick Odair. Little did I know, he would prove to be one of the most _impressive_ victors of any Hunger Games to date!"

This time, people cheer. I am a symbol of hope here. It's a responsibility I never asked for, but one that I've learned to accept.

"Yes, yes," Dax tries to shut them all up. When it's quiet enough for them to hear, he says, "Let's hope District 4 is just as lucky this year!" He isn't faking his enthusiasm. Dax earns a lot of credibility when a tribute from his assigned district wins the Games, so he wants it just as badly as anybody in our district does. Still, it took over fifty years for me, a winning tribute, to come along after Mags's victory, so there's no reason to believe that we can do it again so soon.

But his faith finds a way to reach the people anyway. I can see some pinkness returning to their pale faces. They relax a little, just by hearing that even if their names are called, they might still be okay. I believed that once too, and that belief helped me to accomplish the impossible. I was the last standing in a group of twenty-four children, but that didn't mean that I was okay.

"Now," Dax gains back my attention. "Before I perform the draw, I would just like to say, Happy Hunger Games, and may the tide stay forever high!" It's his signature line, but everybody here hates it. In District 4, the fishing district, high tide means working time. It's the low tide that takes in the sunlight.

As the crowd of people take the hands of their neighbors and get ready to hold their breaths, Dax walks over to the transparent, spinning sphere that encases tiny papers with the name of every teenage child in the District, the older ones with multiple entries depending on their age and wealth status. The girls are first, and Dax slowly opens the door of the bowl and takes out a single piece of paper.

"This year's female tribute from District four is Annie Cresta," he announces.

Annie Cresta. I recognize the name. Or at least, I recognize half of it. Because the name 'Cresta' has been carved into the same memorial as my father's, the one that lists the deaths from District 4's largest ever boating accident. A female 'Cresta' appears twenty names above 'Odair', and I'm sure it belongs to the mother of this girl. Annie.

She doesn't scream when her name is called, which I appreciate. The screaming, more like shrieking, that normally accompanies the female drawing always blocks out those calming waves that I like to hear. This year, though, the waves are loud and clear as a girl I can't quite make out shyly pushes her way through the crowd.

Behind her, I can see a man standing a few feet in front of the other families, his beard scruffy and his bare arms scraped with what I know are netting burns. The father. Beside him is a woman around my age – she must be older than eighteen, because she's not standing with the herd of prospective tributes – who has a hand over her mouth and glossy tears sliding down her cheek. The sister.

I glance at the screen that's up on the stage, which has a camera on Annie. She has her head down to hide from it, so I can only see the top of her head, which is piled with wavy brown hair that flows down her back. But soon enough, she's on stage, and I have a good view of her as she shakes hands with Dax and then the mayor.

She's seventeen. I remember her from school now; she was two years behind me. She's much older than I recall, since of course I haven't been to school since before my Games. The first things I notice about her body are her bare feet. It's not unusual to go barefoot in District 4, especially in poorer families, though it would never be tolerated in the Capitol. Her stylist will have to find some shoes for her.

I move my eyes upward and see her naturally tan legs that have a dryness about them, something that only comes from long-time exposure to saltwater. She's a swimmer, which is good. That might seem like an obvious trait for us fishermen to have, but it's not always the case. So many of the kids in District 4 lost family members in the accident, and some of them haven't stepped foot in the water since. I was the opposite, practically a merman, which came in handy in the arena. Hopefully it will for her too.

She's wearing a light green sundress that's blowing a little in the wind. It has the same movement as the waves in her hair, and it's tied in the back with a wilting ribbon. She's about average height and relatively thin, but not excessively so like the Capitol girls. Her hair is worn and tired from the water, but it's also thick and strong from the sand. She wears a plain necklace that's made from the wire of a fishing pole and from which hangs a piece of purple sea glass in the shape of a small heart.

Then I look at her face… at her eyes. They're sea green, like mine, but they're wide and potent, and I'm drawn to them immediately. Every time she blinks, I find myself waiting for her eyes to open again. And every time she sheds another tear, I think I'm about to walk over and wipe it away, but I never do. I stay right where I am, unmoving, completely still.

I want to yell at her when she turns around, but I convince myself not to. When she faces the crowd, people clap pitifully and others merely sigh with relief that they're not up here instead. The boys are the only ones who don't react at all, because they're still worried about themselves.

Dax Dirigible walks over to a second glass sphere and draws the name of the male tribute. Kasen Strand. I don't recognize any part of this name, but someone does, because all of the sudden I can't hear the waves above the loudest scream I've ever witnessed. It comes from the mother, and her I've seen before.

She has short, blonde hair and eyes with large bags underneath them. She and her husband both work at a fishing supplies store on the wharf, and everybody knows them, even if they don't stop by the store every day. On the contrary, most people try to avoid them, not because _they're_ strange or different or both, but because their kid is.

This is the first time I've ever heard Kasen's name, but as he's pulled onto the stage, I know him instantly. He's the strange one, the different one. He's both. And because of this, I'm suddenly immensely grateful that I won the coin toss against Mags and that I picked the girl.

He's not a bad kid. He must be about twelve or thirteen, and he's going through that awkward stage in life where he's getting taller by the second but not burlier, so he looks pretty scrawny. He has light hair, puppy-dog blue eyes, and enormous ears that make him look ridiculous. But ironically, it's not his appearance that sets him apart. It's the twitching, making him resemble the gulls that invade the beaches every summer, constantly twisting his head as if he's almost _too_ aware of exterior movement and noise. It's the rope that he's playing with, tying a knot and then untying it, over and over again. It's both.

He's convulsing more than ever as Dax steers him to the front of the stage. There isn't much applause for him, just a lot of whispering. No one dares to volunteer themself in his place, even the boys that have been trained for the Games like those in Districts 1 and 2. Kasen is not worthy of their inbred bravery.

As Dax pulls Annie back to the front of the stage to stand with Kasen, the anthem of Panem plays over the pier. While most of the district is happy that the reaping is over, the anthem always feels bittersweet. It's because there are holes in the sound, from those few people who are still crying and therefore can't get the lyrics out, and from those even fewer people who will never stop crying from this day forward. I don't cry, but I don't sing either. Five years ago, I promised myself on this very stage that that year would mark the last time I ever sang the Panem anthem, even if I did manage to survive.

When the singing finishes, everybody on the pier shuffles away. They look like a school of fish swimming away from a shark as they head back home or off to work. Two fish, however, are left behind and are dragged into the Justice Building by tall, frightening-looking Peacekeepers, Capitol policemen.

Mags and I head inside the building just after Kasen and Annie, where we wait in the hallway for the new tributes to say their goodbyes. The families come into the tributes' private rooms through the sides and exit through the front, so for a while, Mags and I are alone.

"I'm guessing you're fairly happy about the coin toss now," Mags says with a chuckle. Her laugh is not funny or cheerful. It is sad. It is pitiful. It is cracked.

"Yeah, I am," I reply. When Mags rolls her eyes, I add, "But it's not like either of them stands a chance."

She knows I'm right. These tributes are small, weak, and probably won't last longer than a few days in the arena. After all, the Hunger Games weren't built for underdogs.

Still, Mags thinks about this for a moment before she says, "Well, that doesn't mean they can't try. That doesn't mean we can't help them."

"I know it doesn't," I say, but it does. It does mean we can't help them. Because if we do, we'll only be setting ourselves up for disappointment, and Mags has lived through sixty years of disappointment. I'm not about to let myself do the same thing.

Just then, Dax comes in through the front doors. He was outside sending a hologram to the Capitol, but now he's approaching Mags and me, ready for the rundown. We do this every year, trying to put a plan into place before we even get the chance to speak with the tributes, because the three of us need to be on the same page, and because we don't want to be overly influenced by the kids. We need to make them famous before they die, and we can't be looking at their sad, swollen faces when we do it.

"The girl might be able to pull off being pretty," Dax says as he crosses his arms against his chest in an astonishingly natural way that leaves no wrinkles in his blazer. He's looking at Mags as he says it, because he assumes that she'll be handling the girl.

I surprise him by answering, "I think she's better suited for scared." There are certain archetypes that we can give the tributes, some of which work better than others. Districts 1 and 2 are always either intimidating or beautiful, which bodes well with the fans, and makes impressive or pretty that much harder to pull off, because they'll always be second best. I managed to pull of being pretty, maybe even beautiful, but I was an exception, and, even with those eyes of hers, Annie isn't.

Once Dax gets used to the idea that I'm taking the girl, he argues, "But we can't make them _both_ scared." He's talking about Kasen now, whom Dax seems to think would be the perfect fearful.

But I don't think that's the best way to market somebody like Kasen. Mags is on the same page, as she fires back at Dax, "I say we go with different for the boy."

Dax laughs because he thinks Mags is joking. But Mags doesn't laugh, and neither do I.

"Different has _never_ worked before!" Dax says with frustration. He makes a good point, but I can't help but think that if Mags does him right, Kasen might just be able to make it work.

Different, or unique, is by far the most difficult label to put on a tribute. It automatically adds a whole new level of pressure, because they have to perform in a way that nobody has ever seen, and the Games have seen just about everything before. But if the tribute can be strange and awkward enough through the training and the interviews, it can give them a real shot in the arena. Just like everyone in District 4 avoids Kasen and his parents' supplies shop, other tributes will want to do the same. And keeping all of the opponent tributes away from our own is the best advantage we can give our district.

"He can do it," Mags says with a nod. If I had said the same thing, Dax would have kept arguing for hours, maybe even days. But with Mags, he doesn't say a word in retaliation.

Having come to an agreement, we all stay silent for the next few minutes. Then a door opens, the one Annie went through, and the man I saw on the pier comes through it. He walks out with his head in his hands, and I want to leave, because he won't want to see us here, but once again I can't move.

At first, Annie's father doesn't notice the three of us standing here. When he does manage to look up, his grief-stricken eyes survey Mags, Dax, and then me. With a low, scratchy tone to his voice, he asks anyone who will listen, "Who's responsible for this? Who's responsible for my girl?"

Dax opens his mouth to answer, but I speak before he can, because Dax doesn't understand the question. He thinks this is about the reaping and the fact that the name of this man's daughter was called out of the bowl, but I know that Annie's father has already forgotten about that. What he really wants to know is who will look out for Annie now that she's been chosen.

"I am," I say, and I know all too soon that the father is disappointed. If I were him, I'd be disappointed too.

He's shaking his head as he growls at me, "I've seen you before. I watched your year. I watched you flaunt yourself around the Capitol like a piece of _meat_. I watched the reporters _drool_ over you."

I'm waiting for the threat to come, because I can feel it brewing underneath his skin. And then it's here, and he's pushing me against the wall, and his face is right in front of mine, his finger pointed into my chest, and he's screaming, "I will _not _see my daughter be paraded through the Capitol like a common _whore!_ Do you hear me? I said, DO YOU _HEAR _ME?"

I breathe deeply and whisper, "I hear you." This is why I don't want Annie to be pretty. This is why she would make a better scared. Her eyes, the same ones I'm looking into now as I stare at her father, are impossible to deny when they're filled with fear.

"Dad!" a voice comes from the re-opened door, and it seems to be enough to get the man to step away from me. When I look around, I see that the hallway is now filled with Peacekeepers holding Annie's father back, and the girl I saw before, the sister, is following them out them out of the building.

Kasen's parents come out next, but they walk past the three of us like they're ghosts that are no longer able to see any living being. When they've left too, Dax says, "We should get to the boat. They'll bring the Tributes down in a minute."

The boat that's waiting for us at the end of the pier is the one that will take us to District 4's train station, where we will leave for the Capitol. I agree to head there now, saying, "Fine, but I'm putting on a shirt."

I remember my first boat ride ten times more clearly than I do the reaping. I remember the shrieking waters, the harsh wind, and every word that Mags said to me while standing on the deck. I suppose it's because I had to listen so intently just to make sure that I could hear her above the waves and the wind. Mostly, though, I think I remember it because stepping on that boat was the first moment that I truly felt like I was leaving.

I think about this as we walk onto the boat now, Dax throwing me a shirt from beneath the pile of life jackets. It's a simple ferry boat, relatively small with nothing but a few benches inside the compartment and a railing on each side of the deck, with the captain stationed atop the roof. I take the shirt and instinctively walk through the compartment and out onto the bow, where I lean against the railing and wait to be swept away.

At some point, I lose track of time, because suddenly the boat is moving and I can just barely hear the shortened breaths of a girl standing behind me. My eyes have been closed, but I open them wide now as I turn my head to the side and say, "You really shouldn't creep up on people like that."

"Sorry," Annie apologizes and takes a stance at the railing beside me. Unlike me, her back is pointed toward the sea and her eyes are locked on the disappearing District 4. Unlike me, she hasn't yet learned that she'll have to turn her back on her home eventually.

I don't look at her when I ask, "Are you scared?" And because it's something I would do, I add, "Don't lie." If I'm going to be her mentor, and _really_ be her mentor, I need to know everything about Annie Cresta.

"I wasn't going to," she says in a way that makes me believe her. "Because yes, I am scared."

I nod. She'll play her part well.

Before I can ask another question, though, she continues, "But I'm not scared of the Games. I'm not scared to die. I'm scared of what will happen if I don't."

This time, I look back at her. She doesn't return the gesture, and is instead still staring at the pier as it grows further away, but I can make out a bit of her eyes, since they pop out against her porcelain skin and wind-blown hair.

Annie doesn't need to be told what these Games are really about, nor what they'll do to a person. She doesn't need to be told that much like the Games themselves, I have been molded by the Capitol into the exact person they want me to be... a person that I hardly recognize. Annie doesn't need to be told that they'll try to do the same to her, and that death is the only sane way out of the Capitol's grasp.

When Annie asks me, "Finnick, why does this feel like the best day of my life?" she adds, "Don't lie."

And I don't lie. I answer in the most honest way that I can, because I know exactly how she feels, by saying, "Because it's the last real day you'll ever have."

Reaping day is my favorite day of the year. Annie understands that, which is why I decide that when it comes to her, I won't deny it... I won't lie... I won't pretend.

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><p><em><strong>Note: <strong>Thanks for reading! I know Finnick may not seem like his usual, charming self, but this is meant to be the 'real' Finnick (Mockingjay-esque), and the handsome, cocky side of him will be more prevalent when he gets to the Capitol. Anyway, let me know what you thought of the chapter by submitting a review! All feedback is appreciated.  
><em>

_-Hailey_


	2. State Lines

_**Note:** Thank you all for your amazing reviews on the first chapter! I wasn't sure if I was going to continue this story, but you've definitely convinced me to. So, without further ado, here is Chapter 2. Hope you enjoy!_

_-Hailey_

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><p><strong>2 – State Lines<strong>

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><p>'<em>We're crossing over state lines. We're making up for lost time. It's feeling like a free-fall now. Nobody's gonna' slow us down.' –"State Lines" (Matt Hires)<em>

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><p>The tribute train arrives at the station promptly, perfectly in sync with our boat as it reaches the other side of the peninsula that makes up District 4. Dax, Mags, and I hop onto the train first, leaving Kasen and Annie a minute to say their silent goodbyes to what will most probably be the last time they ever see their homeland, or in our case, home-water.<p>

Come to think of it, that absence of water might just be the most frightening part of the Capitol. I remember the first time I saw it, with its tall buildings and shining lights, but I had seen all that on the television before. I always knew how rich the entirety of the Capitol was and still is, but what I failed to realize until seeing it was just how barren it was. After traveling through all the other districts on my Victory Tour, including the endless woods of 7 and the grasses and farmland of 11 that reach far past the horizon line, the Capitol almost seemed empty in comparison. And without that familiar, freeing water anywhere in sight, it was like a prison that offered no escape.

Before Kasen and Annie get the chance to see the Capitol, however, they board the train and gasp at its luxury. District 4 is not a poor district, but it still isn't anywhere near as wealthy as the Capitol, which has provided this train just for these two tributes. Stylists have decorated it with lavish hanging lights through every hallway and compartments that are as big as the shops on the wharf.

Dax is quick to show Kasen and Annie to their personal compartments so that they can change out of their tear-stained clothes from the reaping and meet us back in the dining compartment for lunch. The reapings from all the districts are staggered throughout the day so that the people in the Capitol can watch each of them live, and District 4's is always in the morning. There's more time to get to the Capitol that way, which is more than needed, since 4 is the furthest district away. It'll take us all day today and tomorrow to arrive in the city center.

As Mags and I take our seats in the dining hall and talk to some of the waiters that have been brought in from the Capitol, I wonder how my mother is doing. Normally around midday, I come back from the beach or the pier and bring her some bread, because no matter how much she eats, she just can't get enough of District 4's own salty, seaweed-tinted bread. Now, I just hope that she hasn't forgotten that I've left, and that she isn't sitting in her bed wondering where I am.

By the time the food is on the table in front of us, a vast array of all sorts of fruits, vegetables, proteins, and carbs, Dax is back with the tributes in tow. Neither of them says anything as they sit down shyly and take a little bit of each offering. I know from experience that they both must be starving, but they don't show it. Perhaps it's just from the stress, but Kasen eats like a rabbit, taking tiny bites of his food so that it's practically chewed before it's even in his mouth. Annie, on the other hand, is very well-mannered, using her utensils to cut well-sized portions of the food and then wiping her mouth after every bite.

They're still in shock, but the silence makes Dax uncomfortable after a while, so he tries to get the tributes to talk more. The first thing he says is directed at Annie as he asks, "Ms. Cresta, is your hair naturally that long?"

Annie nods, looking at Dax like he might be insane. It was a silly question, since only Capitol people and maybe those from District 1 can actually afford to style their hair, let alone get extensions. While it's true that most people from District 4 have short hair so that it doesn't get in the way while fishing, Annie most likely hasn't needed to worry about any of that just yet.

Still, Dax is rather sensitive, a trait that most people in the Capitol seem to have in abundance since their reputation is the only thing they care about, and so he appears to be slightly hurt by Annie's lack of response. This shuts him up for the next few minutes, and Mags ends up getting a word in before Dax composes himself once more.

"Kasen," she says, "Tell me about those knots of yours. You seem to be very good at tying them." Mags is careful to speak slowly with a monotone voice, making sure that the boy takes in every word.

Though most of us have finished eating by now, Kasen is still nibbling his food from one hand while playing with that rope of his in the other. I might just be seeing things, but I can almost swear that he's still tying knots in it, even with only one available hand.

"I am," Kasen responds robotically. He twitches a little as he says it, staring straight ahead instead of looking at Mags. "I tie knots; that's what I do."

Dax, Annie, and I have shifted our attention to Kasen, fascinated by his unique behavior. We all try not to stare, but he doesn't seem to notice when we do. Meanwhile, Mags keeps prying more information out of him, carefully peeling the layers off his skin without penetrating too deep.

"Tell me about them," she urges Kasen once more. "What kind of knots can you tie?" If he's as good at tying knots as he says he is, it may prove to be a useful skill for him in the arena. In my own Games, I caught nearly every tribute left standing after the initial fight at the Cornucopia with my hand-woven fish nets. With Kasen's knots, he might be able to do the same.

"I tie Ashley Stopper knots," he says. "I like those." Finally, he finishes the food on his plate and is able to take the rope in both hands. I know the knot he speaks of, though, and it's not the one he's tying now.

"That's a Rolling Hitch," I tell him. It's a difficult knot to tie, even more difficult to untie, and it's hardly ever used these days.

"Yes," Kasen nods, again not looking anywhere but directly in front of him. "I tie them too." He doesn't say which other knots he ties, and Mags decides not to ask again. He seems to be the type of person who's careful not to give away all of his secrets until he has to. I think I might like that about him. I should, anyway, because it's one of the only things I like about myself.

When it appears that we have nothing left to discuss, Mags excuses herself and Kasen to give her tribute a tour of the train. Dax decides to accompany them, leaving Annie and me sitting at the table together, wondering what to say to the other.

After a long and awkward silence, I ask Annie the first question that comes to mind. "So, do you tie any knots?"

A smile spreads across her thin lips and I notice for the first time that they have a gentle shade of purple mixed in with the pink. Then she's laughing, but not in that hysterical and obnoxious way that makes every expression seem like an over-reaction. She's chuckling lightly, like a wide-eyed child might laugh at her father's favorite joke.

And thinking this makes me think of my own father, or at least what I can remember of him. Because when I picture him, I don't think that I actually see _him_, but instead see an unreliable image that's been tampered with by my own imagination – a spurt of water on the horizon that I always think is a whale, but then turns out to be nothing more than an unruly wave. And because my mother doesn't want to distort my memory of him with hers, she's never told me if the things I remember were real.

The same thing happened after I won the Games. As soon as I stepped foot off that arena, I left every moment of the things I'd witnessed in the water by the Cornucopia. I can barely recall any of the deaths or the emotions that came with them from all the time I spent in the Games, nor can I ever clearly picture the faces of those I killed. Of course, the difference here is that I don't want to remember any part of the Games. I don't want to remember those deaths, but I do wish that I could remember my father's. I suppose that's normal, though. Nobody in their right mind would ever want to revisit a death that's on their own hands. The ones that people really try to remember are the deaths that take away a hand to hold.

"What are you thinking about?" a voice brings me back to reality. Annie's looking at me with that same curiosity that her eyes had when she was laughing from before, and I quickly realize that she actually wants an answer.

"I can't remember," I tell her, and for a second she thinks I'm lying to her. But when I add, "I wish I could," she looks at me again and I know that she believes me.

When she doesn't say anything else, I ask, "Aren't I supposed to be the one asking what _you're_ thinking about?"

"You tell me," she responds. "It's not like I've ever done this before."

I can sense the fear in Annie's eyes just like I did during the reaping. I want to tell her that she'll be fine, that she might live, but I keep silent because I promised myself that I wouldn't lie to her.

After a while of neither of us saying anything, she stands up and starts walking away, and for some reason I find myself following her, breaking the wall that has kept me from getting too close to her since her name was picked out of that glass bowl only a few hours ago.

I catch up to her in no time and carefully pull a piece of seaweed out from her brown waves. She doesn't turn around fully, but just cocks her head to the side to make sure that it's me who touched her hair, and she whispers, "Thanks."

I hand her the sun-dried plant because I know that it will remind her of home and I ask, "Last night or this morning?" I'm referring to when she went swimming, because she must not have been in the ocean all that long ago.

"This morning," she confirms, adding, "I came straight from the water."

I nod, and for a moment our eyes meet. Sea to sea, ocean to ocean, hers pure and clean and mine stained red with blood – me, the boy with the trident, and Annie, the girl from the water.

But then she's gone, and I too decide to head to my compartment to take a shower. I hate showers, and always have, because they make the water much harsher than I know it to be. After a while of my skin being pounded with pellets of warmth, I start to feel its layers peeling off. In the exact opposite way that Mags tried to learn more about Kasen, I let myself slip away bit by bit, readying my head for the fast approaching Capitol and the new me that must come with it.

By the time I'm cleaned and shaved what I deem to be an appropriate amount (I'm not quite up to the Capitol's standards, but I have tomorrow to complete the task), I check my window and see that the sun has nearly set. Using it as my cue, I walk back to the dining hall and eat another quiet meal amongst Dax, Mags, and the tributes, before all of us gather round a TV to watch a compilation of today's twelve reapings.

Mags and Annie both sit with Kasen because they don't want him to have to witness all the reapings on his own, while Dax and I take separate seats and watch the recap with equal amounts of interest.

The reapings are played in order, starting with District 1. This is one of the Career districts, where groups of kids are trained throughout their childhoods to one day fight in the Games, and so they tend to volunteer themselves when they turn seventeen or eighteen. District 4 has a few of them as well, but I was never trained, and Kasen and Annie most definitely weren't either.

Sure enough, about ten screams are heard from both the girls and the boys of District 1 requesting to take the place of the chosen tributes, and eventually the female escort settles on two tall, beautiful people that must be eighteen already. They look just like District 1 tributes normally do: thin, strong, and blonde, but the girl is especially intimidating. She looks like she's ready to slaughter half the town right then and there, an ironic desire when compared to her placid name: Pearl.

A similarly ravenous boy from District 2 is reaped a few minutes later, and I think I heard his name was Nickel. This one jumps onto the podium in pure elation, ripping his shirt off in order to bang his fists against his chest like a gorilla while he bears his impressive tattoos that have marked the entirety of his pale skin. I can see Annie shiver from beside Kasen when this happens, but neither Mags nor I dare to flinch.

District 3, the technology and electronics district, is up next. Its Justice Building is covered in solar panels that help light the dry and desolate square of the town center, and factory smoke billows in the background. I remember standing on the podium near the front on my Victor's Tour, my eyes blinded by the effervescent spotlights. Luckily, those same lights made it impossible for me to see the people that had gathered there, all of whom had surely been staring me down with insolence, since the female tribute from District 3 was the last one I killed in my arena. There wasn't a soul in her district who understood how my water could overthrow her lightning, but of course they wouldn't have known that no battery could ever produce as strong a current as a tsunami. And when I was in the arena, that's what I was: a giant, powerful, and explosive tsunami.

The square looks exactly the same as I remember it as District 3 appears on the screen in front of me. The tributes are called out quickly and robotically, and there are no volunteers. I barely get a glimpse of them before they're dragged into the Justice Building with their mentors, but their names are announced to be Ember and Noor, and the girl is small and fragile while the boy is tall and strong.

The TV replaces Ember and Noor with Annie and Kasen, and I watch this morning's reaping from a whole new viewpoint. This time, I see the tributes' expressions on the stage instead of just their backs. I see Annie looking onto the pier for someone to latch her eyes onto, and I see Kasen stare blankly at the ground. When the clip cuts past the anthem, I see something I didn't see this morning as Kasen drops his rope of knots and Annie leans down to pick it up for him. I wish that I could appreciate the way she's looking out for him, from both this morning as well as right now, but all I can think of is how hard it will be for one of them when the other dies. After all, there was a reason I refused to make alliances when I was in the arena.

It takes too long for the program to fast forward through the other reapings, none of which bring surprising results. The tributes from 5 and 6 look agitated but spry, 7 has a particularly tall ginger-haired boy whose name I don't catch, and 8 reaps a twelve year-old girl whom I already know won't make these Games very easy for the District 8 mentor, who announced her pregnancy in the Capitol about four months ago.

Districts 9 and 10 whip by, and the only tribute I'm at all drawn to is the female from 10, if only because her face is shaped in a way that is eerily similar to the horses that border the giant field of the livestock district. Then comes 11, where a dark-skinned boy named Leo has to walk off the stage after his name is called so that he can calm down a horde of younger siblings. Eventually, the Peacekeepers have to literally pull a child out of the tribute's arms in order to end the ceremony, and I swear that I've never seen so many tears shed at a single reaping.

The final reaping is in District 12, the poorest of all the districts, and the tributes are both undernourished fourteen year-olds. Their mentor, drunken slob Haymitch Abernathy, is the only source of entertainment during the reaping, since he falls off the stage a good three times, almost as if he's trying to pass out because he knows that's the only way he can get out of what most mentors believe to be the worst part of the job.

Then the reapings have finished, and the program ends with a message from the white-haired President Snow, with the parting words of 'Happy Hunger Games'. The afterimage of his smile shines on the screen even after Dax turns the TV off, but nobody on this train is smiling. We would be fools to believe that any Hunger Games could be _happy_, and District 4 doesn't give rise to fools. That's the Capitol's job.

I can sense my same resentment in Mags as she gets up and walks out of the compartment, Kasen following her like a shadow as he ties a whole new set of knots. Dax and Annie leave soon after, off to their Capitol-tailored water beds that they won't be able to sleep in.

I decide to stay behind for a while, moving from the couch to a windowsill, where I watch the forests of District 7 pass by at over 200 miles per hour. At first, I'm not thinking of anything in particular, but then I find myself wondering what the arena will be like this year. There is a new arena for each version of the Games, carefully designed by the Capitol's Gamemakers, all of whom are led by Snow's understudy, the enigmatic genius, Seneca Crane.

Certain arenas have worked better than others. Woods are popular, because they allow room for tributes to hide as well as hunt. Perhaps the best part about these arenas, though, is the fact that they are fairly temperate. See, tundra and deserts are too extreme and their harsh climates end up killing the majority of tributes before they get the chance to kill each other, which defies the Games' main purpose: entertainment.

By far the most interesting arenas I've seen over the years are the tropical islands and the abandoned cities. Each is unique in its own respect, and I know from experience that an island acts as a perfect battleground. I most likely wouldn't have won if my Games had taken place in an old city, but maybe that's why I like those arenas so much as well. They offer a habitat that none of the tributes are familiar with – an expansive jungle of concrete without a speck of fertility. In other words, a wasteland. As fascinated as I am by those cities, though, I hope that this isn't the year I see one. I may not have much faith in Kasen and Annie living long lives, but that doesn't mean that I want to see whatever life they have left go to waste.

"You look somber," Mags says from behind me. I don't know how long it's been since she walked off with Kasen, but I'm not surprised to see that she's returned. She tends to want to talk over everything that happens throughout our mentorships, including the reapings, claiming that we need to strategize for our tributes. Really, though, I think that might just be an excuse for her wanting to check up on me.

"Yeah. I suppose I should be cheering pretty soon, shouldn't I?" I say, standing from the windowsill so that Mags can take my seat.

She takes my rhetorical question seriously, squinting her wrinkled eyes and answering, "You shouldn't have to cheer up for anyone."

I know she's trying to be all-knowing and wise, but for some reason I don't want to hear it. Shrugging off her statement, I joke, "Well, I don't really mind putting on my happy face, so long as they give me a couple of sugar cubes first."

But my attempt at lightening the mood doesn't fool the old broad, as she rolls her eyes and says, "I'm serious. You have a reason to be passive, Finn."

My mother used to call me that. Finn. She hasn't used the nickname in years, ever since before my Games. But of course, as soon as I left District 4 that year, Mags took over my mother's role. She always shortens my name when she wants me to listen, because the rest of the time, she's usually just babbling.

I let my head fall toward my chest, taking a hand out of my pocket to rub my lonely eyes. I can stand here and lie to Mags all I want, but she's the one person who has witnessed everything that I've ever been through. She's the one person who really knows me, and that means _both_ sides of me. She knows the funny, arrogant side that I show my fans, and she knows the sad, damaged side that I only let a select few see. She knows me.

"They can't make you listen to them," Mags tells me as she takes my dropped face in her hands.

I bat her hands away without hesitation as I look at her and sneer, "Of course they can! They already have." Mags is what some might call an independent. She has never stooped to the Capitol's demands of her, but she doesn't have to. She has nothing left for President Snow to barter with, and so sometimes she forgets that I do.

"Okay," Mags surrenders, deciding to back off. Still, she can't help but add one last sentiment. "But I hope you know that you're worth more than they pay you for."

Because I owe her my life, I listen to Mags. And because I am the only life she's ever saved, I decide to confide in her too. "I just wish that I could be with somebody who gives me more than a check on my pillow," I say. "And I_ really_ wish that I could give somebody more to admire than just my body."

"Well," Mags replies almost automatically, "I'm not going to sit here and tell you that I already admire you for everything _but_ your body, because I know I'm not the one you want to hear it from."

I laugh a little, and it feels good. It feels genuine.

"But I will say," continues Mags, "That one of these days, somebody's going to come out of nowhere and remind you how to live – and I mean how to _really_ live, without having to fake it."

I don't say anything except, "Okay." And with that, this conversation ends and a new one begins, Mags and I deliberating over which of the other tributes from the reapings we'll need to make sure Kasen and Annie watch out for, and which could prove to be easy targets.

We begin to formulate a tentative game plan after about an hour, and then I order Mags to get some sleep, because she's not as young as she likes to think she is. I head off to my own compartment as well, where I lie on the floor, close my eyes, and try to imagine that the thunder from outside the train's windows that's coming from District 3 is actually the steady beat of my home district's rising tides.

In the morning, I walk into the dining hall to find Dax off in the corner sending another hologram to the Capitol, while Mags, Kasen, and Annie are busy eating breakfast at the table. I join them in the seat next to Annie and realize as I pile food onto my plate that Mags is letting the tributes in on some of the things we went over together last night.

"You will both need to be inconspicuous before and during the Games," she's telling them. "Don't worry about sponsors, because District 4 gets enough as it is."  
>"I don't understand," Kasen mumbles to a piece of toast. "High training scores mean more sponsor gifts. Inconspicuous means low scores, but low scores don't mean sponsors." Listening to him is like rowing a boat on your own – no matter how hard you try, you just never get anywhere.<p>

Mags still tries to get Kasen to understand by explaining, "That would be true, except that District 4 happens to have a mentor who knows how to sell himself." Kasen and Annie could each score a 1 at the end of their training, when the Gamemakers assess the tributes' skills to determine their odds of surviving in the arena on a scale of 1 to 12, and people would still send in money (sponsorships used by mentors to send their tributes tools, medicine, and other necessities throughout the Games) to District 4. That's how much of a mark I've left on the population of Panem.

As Kasen furrows his eyebrows and creases his forehead in comprehension, I can feel Annie's hypnotic eyes on me. I try not to meet them with my own, though I can't help but wonder what she's thinking. Surely she's seen me on TV over the years, with my arms around Capitol girls during the Opening Ceremonies and again at the closing. She knows that the Capitol makes me put on such a ruse. But does she know the whole truth? Does she know just how far I've gone? And if she does, does she resent me for it?

"If Finnick is the one people send money for," Kasen says suddenly, surprising all of us with his understanding, "Does that mean that they will want me to carry a trident? Because I don't carry tridents; that's not what I do."

Mags, Annie, and I can't hide our laughter. We're all keeled over from it, Kasen staring at us in bewilderment. I've been holding my fork mid-air after taking a bite of food, but now I've dropped it on my plate and bounced my hand onto the table. I don't notice its proximity to Annie's hand until I get a hold of my chuckling, and it accidentally brushes her arm as I try to slide it off the table.

Annie's looking at me again now, but I distract myself from her stare by directing my gaze at Kasen and saying to the boy, "Don't worry. We won't send you any tridents."

"Good," states Kasen without a speck of gratitude.

"And what about the interviews?" Annie asks once Kasen gets back to his food and knots. "Are we not supposed to stand out then either?"

"No, the interviews are when you do want to stand out," I reply. Interviews come after training, just before the Games begin. They're the audience's only real time to get to know the tributes, and though they might not give them somebody to bet on like the training scores, they do give them somebody to root for. "The other tributes won't be paying much attention to them, but the Capitol will be. Even if you're going to be a hider, you still need to leave some sort of impression."

Annie gulps and looks down at her palms as if terrorized by the mere thought of being asked questions in front of thousands of people. "I'm not very memorable," she says in a single breath.

My own interview was perhaps the best ever, or so I've been told. I don't remember anything I said to Caesar Flickerman, nor do I remember what sort of questions he asked me, but apparently I had the right answers. Thinking about how shy Annie is, I tell her, "Don't worry. I'll coach you for it."

And at that, our eyes meet again. Hers look different than they did yesterday, though, and I realize they they're blood-shot and swollen. She must have been crying all night.

Just as that same urge I've been getting lately – the one that makes me want to wipe Annie's pain away – starts to pull at me once more, Mags tears our eyes apart as she announces, "The more pressing issue is tonight's Opening Ceremonies."

Annie and I refocus our attention to Mags as the latter continues, "We'll be handing you both over to your personal stylists and prep teams who have been sent all of your information already. They will have outfits ready for you when you arrive, and they and Dax will escort you to your chariot, which will ride through the Capitol square to mark the start of the pre-Games season."

This time, Kasen is the one who seems scared, as he asks Mags, "Where will you be?"

Mags smiles down at him and comforts Kasen by saying, "I'll be waiting for you at the Training Center to show you to your room at the end of the night."

As Mags tells Kasen of a doctor's appointment that she's had set up for him upon our arrival in the Capitol, Annie whispers to me, "Are you staying at the Training Center as well, Finnick?"

From her question, I realize that Annie is well aware of the lengths I go to abide by Snow's wishes, because she wouldn't have asked such a question if she hadn't already known the answer. "No," I say. "I won't be there until tomorrow morning." And upon my confession, Annie looks away, and it feels worse than when she stares.

I spend the next few hours prepping myself more carefully for the Capitol. I repeat yesterday's same routine, but with much more precision this time. When I come out of the washroom, spick and span without a single scratch on me, I see the skimpy piece of net that one of the workers has laid out for me to wear, sitting on that ridiculous water bed.

Trying not to mock myself, I strip off my clothes and wrap the net around my waist, covering just enough of me to avoid being arrested. Then I look in the mirror at my newly polished, tan skin and piercing eyes. I run a hand through my thickly gelled, golden-brown hair and then pucker my lips and lean back my head.

I say to the mirror, "Bye Finn," before walking out of my compartment and into the hallway. By the time I get to the central compartment, where Kasen and Annie are gazing out the windows in astonishment as they try to take in their new surroundings, the train is already slowing.

Soon, we're at the station, and then we're walking out the double doors and into a mass of reporters with booming microphones and flashing cameras, and we push our way through them for a few yards until we reach a door to an irrationally tall building that opens upon my eye-scan.

All noise subsides once we're inside, Dax stuck on the other side of the door to keep the reporters out. We're standing in a stark hallway made of marble on all sides, and Mags has already tugged Kasen over to his awaiting stylist and psychologist at one end of the room.

I look around for Starlin, the young, female designer that always take my tributes, and find her walking toward me and Annie from an adjacent hallway. She's already looking Annie over from the ground up, and her eyes are locked on her feet.

"You need shoes," she states once she's near enough for Annie to hear. Starlin says it with a shake of her head and a cluck on the last word, like Annie is the most pathetic human being she's ever come across.

"Starlin," I say, addressing the woman with childlike features who's clad in a skin-tight leotard and ten-inch heels, "This is Annie Cresta."

"Mmm," Starlin snorts as she continues to shake her head, her hand plastered over her mouth in shock. When I stay where I am and wait for her to acknowledge either me or Annie, she shakes her free hand at me and says, "Go on, Finnick. Don't worry; I'll deal with this."

I laugh and say, "All right, then," before turning around to leave. This time, though, Annie's the one who comes after me, running up from behind before I make it to the door.

She's breathing harshly from her nerves as she yells at me, "Wait!"

I turn around to reassure Annie. "You're in safe hands," I say, because I know that Starlin doesn't always come across as being very caring, but really she is. "You'll be fine."

But Annie's fearful expression doesn't fade, and soon she's asking me, "What if all this is too much? What if I told you everything was moving too fast? What if I wanted it to stop?"

I sigh before answering, "You should have said that before you stepped onto that train. Because you can't go back now, Annie. You can't stop." And as Mags's words from last night mix in my mind with Snow's orders from long ago, I add, "Neither of us can stop it now."

And because I have to, because I have a job to do, I turn around and walk away from Annie without looking back. All too soon, I'm standing amongst the reporters on a walkway that sits beneath clouds of towers, and they're leading me to my next location. Then I'm inside the Capitol's largest and richest hotel and I'm riding an elevator up to the penthouse. Finally, the elevator door opens, and I can't even see the room amongst the gaggle of women already pressed up against my naked chest, their blown-out hair blocking any vision I might have had otherwise. Nothing is familiar to me as I open my mouth and start flirting, as I shake my hips against strangers, as I disappear into a sea of lustful customers – a sea with no escape.

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><p><em><strong>Note: <strong>What did you think of the chapter, or of the story so far? Let me know in a review if you can! Thanks for reading._

_-Hailey_


	3. Listen to Me Now

**_Note:_**_I apologize for how late of an upload this is, but I've been going through some personal things lately, so time to write is scarce at the moment. Anyway, please enjoy this chapter, and make sure to see my note at the end, as I have an announcement to make. Thanks for reading!_**  
><strong>

_-Hailey_

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><p><strong>3 – Listen to Me Now<strong>

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><p>'<em>When it's only you and me, we could turn our whole world inside out.' <em>

–"_Listen to Me Now" (Matt Hires)_

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><p>I wake up on the floor of the hotel penthouse to find a fresh check and a new note from President Snow. I snatch the check before I have the chance to lose it, and grip the slab of paper tightly in my left hand. Victors of any Hunger Games will receive enough money from the Capitol to live a long and prosperous life, but they will only be given as much as the Capitol <em>wants<em> to give them. In my case, that doesn't include the money for my mother's medicine, which is the only reason I ever struck a deal with Snow in the first place. My mother is worth doing anything for; I just wish Snow didn't know it.

Once my eyes adjust to the light that's shining through the enormous windows, I read the letter Snow left for me. In it, he welcomes me back to the Capitol and makes the same offer as the one he made in the letter that's still sitting by my bed in District 4. The only thing that's keeping me on his service is my dying mother, but unfortunately for him, Nola is also the reason I can't fulfill his wish for me to live and work in the Capitol full time. Her disease is a Catch-22 for Snow, which is why I'm secretly thankful for it.

I get up to find a pair of jeans to put on so that I can stash the check in my pocket, but I decide to rip up Snow's letter and let the rose-scented shreds fall across this floor that has been tainted with sin. Then I walk past the layers of clothing leftover from last night's slew of glamorous yet trashy Capitol girls, grab a handful of sugar cubes off the kitchen counter, and sit on the velvet couch that's in front of the TV.

It doesn't take long to sift through the channels and find a recap of last night's Opening Ceremonies. The first person I see on the screen is Nickel, the tattoo-covered tribute from District 2, decked out in Roman armor as he roars atop his chariot. Next, the tributes from District 3 come riding into the crowded stadium, and the audience seems to be excited by them. The stylists for three always get to make their tributes somewhat fluorescent, since tributes tend to be dressed in a way that represents their district, and people in the Capitol can't resist anything that shines.

I lean forward in anticipation as the fourth chariot appears, and my eyes go straight to Annie. Starlin has fashioned her perfectly, putting her in a long and modest turquoise dress that runs out of the carriage and floats atop the wind. Her hair looks less ratty than usual, but still natural, with strings of sea glass sparkling through her curls. Best of all, half of her face is covered with a piece of carefully woven netting, giving her something to hide behind. She is not shimmering. She is not regal. She is as inexplicable as the stars.

Having seen all I really wanted to see, I turn the TV off and leave the hotel in one swift motion. The Training Center is only a few blocks away, and after so many visits to the Capitol, by now I could get there with my eyes closed. But this morning, I decide to keep them open, because I actually like seeing the stillness that engulfs the city around sunrise. See, people in the Capitol don't need to wake up early like we district folk, because unlike us, they don't have to work for a living.

There isn't a soul on the streets, and so for once the crowded cage feels wide and free. Even the concrete and steel is less invasive with fewer people stepping on it, and I can finally make out its texture and movement. Not as fluid as ocean waves, of course, but not too far off. As I walk, I convince myself that I'm swimming in abandoned waters and that the concrete is actually carrying me along a strong current, straight to my destination.

This puts me in a relatively good mood by the time I walk through the automatic doors of the domed center that's connected to a tall building that houses all the tributes. I walk inside and see a few familiar faces right away, a couple of awaiting Gamemakers and even a couple fellow mentors, but no one worth talking to. Since I know that my team won't be down this early, I set off toward the elevators to meet them on the fourth floor of the adjacent building.

On my way, I pass by District 2's team, already downstairs and eager for their first day of training. Two has a number of mentors, but this year seems to be headed by the worst of the bunch: Lyme, a Capitol-crazed woman in her mid-forties who's just as angry as she is skinny, and Enobaria, a relatively young mentor who won the Games three years before I did by tearing tributes apart with her teeth. Of course, they're thrilled with Nickel, their promising male tribute, who's eyeing the Gamemakers like he's the predator and _they're_ the ones he gets to kill.

I decide to ignore that particular group for now, but am so mentally distracted by their image that I run straight into Mags as I walk into the elevator. The door closes on us before she can leave, but she doesn't seem to mind heading back up, so I assume she was only coming down to look for me.

"Hey," I say, but don't get a chance to greet her further before she starts blabbering with anxiety.

"The doctors gave me Kasen's lab results," she says suddenly. "Finn, it's _unbelievable_. Outrageous. Heartless. Getting away with this."

"What is, Mags?" I ask. Sometimes I have to help her along in situations such as this, especially when she acts so frazzled, since it usually means that she doesn't actually want to accept whatever has just happened. She'd rather live in her own imaginary world called Denial, a world I know well.

After she shakes her head a few more times, I manage to coax the truth out of her. "He has Asperger's Syndrome," she states. Mags took Kasen to the Games' doctor yesterday, to make sure that he was psychologically stable to be put into the arena. Hearing his diagnosis, it sure doesn't sound like he is.

"_WHAT?"_ I ask furiously. "They found a cure for that decades ago!" I'm talking as if I don't understand how the Capitol could get away with something like this, but of course I understand it perfectly. These days, treatments and cures are only provided to those who are worth keeping alive. That criterion doesn't include any district child between the ages of twelve to eighteen, since they might just die in the Games anyway. The Capitol won't cure Kasen for the same reason none of the careers were willing to volunteer for him at the reaping: in their eyes, Kasen Strand's life is not worth living.

Mags goes silent for a while, which worries me. Mags hardly ever worries me, but her silence always does. It's haunting, terrifying even. Her silence is a sign that she has lost her greatest weapon. It's a sign that she has lost her voice.

But when I look at her overtly creased forehead, I can tell that she's thinking before she speaks again, and so I wait for her to compose herself. When she does, she asks in a whisper, "How am I supposed to tell him that he could be normal? How do I say that for the past thirteen years of his life, he could have been like all the other kids at the beach? How is he supposed to accept the fact that the Capitol is about to steal his future when they've already robbed him of his past?"

I answer quickly in an attempt to calm Mags down and say, "You don't. You don't tell him anything. You don't _do_ anything."

When she seems skeptical of my advice, I turn the persuasion up a notch and lower my voice as I explain, "You can't tell anybody about this! Not Dax, not Annie, and most definitely not Kasen. People already perceive him as being _weak_. The last thing he needs is to start believing it himself." To really get her to listen, I add, "He's supposed to be different, remember? Don't take that away from him just yet."

She finally seems to understand, but I can tell that she's still upset. Kasen won't have an easy time in any part of the Games, because his condition will hold him back. For all of her years in mentoring, Mags has pushed people ahead. She doesn't know how to work with tributes that can't be pushed any further.

When the elevator door opens to the District 4 suite, which is the size of mine and Mags's house combined and spread across one luxurious floor, Mags steps out and stalks off to Kasen's room. I don't remind her not to say anything, since I try not to tell Mags what to do. Plus, I know she'll keep her mouth shut, because _she_ knows that I'm right.

I turn the corner and walk into the dining room only to be bombarded by overexcited voices and useless hand gestures. I have to blink a couple of times to realize that both Dax and Starlin are trying to tell me something. Still, all I can hear is a jumbled mess of nonsense about fabric and impressions.

"I'm thinking of putting her in green for the interview," Starlin says before her idea is overtaken by Dax.

"No, we need to be focused on the training first," argues Dax. "She needs to be kept mysterious throughout all of it if we want to keep the vision going."

Starlin rolls her eyes and retaliates, "Well, it's not as if green isn't a _mysterious_ color. Most Capitol people haven't even seen it in natural lighting before!" It's normal for these two to argue for days on end, because they have opposing ideas of what is most important for the tributes of District 4. Being a stylist, Starlin only ever thinks about image, while Dax is concerned about action.

"How about we ask Annie's mentor what he thinks," suggests Dax, and then they're both staring at me as they await some sort of answer.

I'm not sure where I should stand on the topic, especially since I don't want to upset either of my co-workers, so I just say, "Annie was perfect. Let's try to keep it that way, all right?" My question gets them arguing once more, allowing me to slip out of the conversation unnoticed so that I can find Annie.

Her room is across the hall from Kasen's, from which I overhear a bit of light conversation coming from behind the door. I take that to be a good sign. Turning my attention back to my own tribute, I knock on Annie's closed door and wait for a response.

"Who is it?" she asks, and her voice doesn't sound that muffled, so she must be standing near the door.

"It's Finnick," I reply, and immediately the door opens to show a made-over Annie Cresta. She's standing inside a low-ceilinged room void of all furniture but a bed that sits only a foot atop a clean, carpeted floor.

Annie looks at me for a moment before she breathes, "You're back." She's already dressed in her training clothes, a sort of tracksuit that is uniform amongst the tributes except for the district number embroidered on the shoulder pads.

When she doesn't say or do anything else but be still and stare, I ask, "May I come in?"

She opens the door further and I walk inside. She offers me a seat on the bed, but I decline, and so we both stand in the middle of the room with our hands glued to our sides. Annie doesn't seem all that thrilled to see me, which I find oddly comforting. After what I did last night, she shouldn't want to look at me anymore. After what I did last night, _I_ don't want to look at me anymore.

I let her silence torture me for a while, but then I realize that we don't have much time, so I ask her, "Are you ready for today?"

She shrugs coldly and answers, "I guess so."

I made sure to give Annie all of my advice on the tribute train so that I wouldn't have to shove it all at her in one go the morning before her training started. I'm grateful for that decision now, because I know that Annie was listening yesterday, while she clearly isn't today.

In hopes that she might pay a speck of attention, I remind her, "Well, you know what to do. Ignore the careers, focus on the shelter stations, and eye out some of the others if you get the chance." I won't be able to go to the center with her, but I'll still be watching from the viewing room, along with all the other mentors.

She nods, but the motion is detached, lonely, anxious. I have my hand on the doorknob, ready to leave, when I say one last thing. "Oh, uh, watch over Kasen. Don't let him feel too alone." I shouldn't be telling Annie to get even closer to Kasen than she already is, but it will make Mags feel better to know that somebody's there to protect the boy when she can't.

Annie doesn't respond with any words or gestures, and I'm half-way out the door when I hear her whisper pointedly from her stance inside the room, "Is that why you do it, Finnick? To feel less alone?"

I make sure to keep my back upright even though I desperately want to slouch in shame. I don't know why it is that my deal with Snow has caused such a reaction in Annie that has never occurred with any of my previous tributes, but mostly I don't know why that difference in her makes me smile.

After having a moment to myself, I turn to the side without fully facing her and say, "No, Annie. It doesn't make me feel less alone. It makes me feel _more_ alone. But I don't do it for me."

I don't look back at her as I walk away, but soon I can hear her footsteps trailing mine, and we walk together to the elevator, where Mags and Kasen are waiting. Annie and I stand next to each other on our way down to the center, and I walk her as far as I'm allowed to go without saying a word, leaving her at an enormous, steel doorway that separates our locked gaze.

Even though we both desperately want to stay with our tributes, Mags and I head off to the other side of the first floor and into the viewing area, another expansive suite centered about a large, circular room that's decorated with twenty-four televisions, one for each tribute. This is where mentors and escorts spend most of their time during the Games, watching their tributes through their training and later in the arena. Of course, the room empties fairly quickly, for mentors tend to disappear around the same time that their televisions are turned off.

By the time the other mentors see us walk in, I have a fresh smile on my face and greet them all like we're the best of friends. This isn't entirely false, at least for a select few, but there are still some that have never spoken to me. I can't say I blame them, considering I was the one who killed all of their old tributes only a few years back.

As Mags rushes over to Kasen's TV, I find myself barricaded by Gloss and Cashmere, the career siblings from District 1 who won the 67th and 68th Hunger Games, respectively. They're only about a year older than I am, and are still unbelievably proud and excited to be working for the Capitol now, which they make quite clear as they try to chat me up over by the punch bowl.

I pretend to listen to the two tall blondes, both of whom are flirting with me without even trying to hide it, as I look across the room to get a feeling for the different levels of confidence seeping from each of the mentors that have decided to show up this year. There's Haymitch, of course, the District 12 drunk who's standing a couple of yards away from me by the liquor cabinet. He doesn't want to be here for long, and with the awkward, gangly tributes I remember from twelve's reaping, he shouldn't have reason to watch the Games for more than a couple of days at most.

Lyme and Enobaria are both sitting in the TV room, eyeing the screen with Nickel on it and completely ignoring their female tribute. Their kid has already been labeled as the one to beat, and they're not about to let that title slip through their fingers. Surprisingly, the two dark-skinned mentors for District 11, Seeder and Chaff, are also mesmerized by the televisions, which reminds me of their male tribute. He was the large boy who had said goodbye to about a dozen younger siblings at the reaping. Leo.

I keep my eyes on District 11 as Haymitch goes over and sits beside Chaff, handing him a full flask of whichever alcohol will get him tipsy the fastest. They're old friends, both too stubborn and proud to admit that they feel dead inside. One day not too far from now, that'll probably be me, holding on to the last bits of hope I find every few years in a particular tribute. But then that hope will die along with the kid, and I'll have to turn to drinking to drown in my sorrows.

I'm so caught up in this thought that I fail to notice that the blondes have stalked off and have since been replaced by the District 3 couple, one of whom suddenly asks me, "Why don't you join them?"

I look up to see Beetee and Wiress staring me down with their wide eyes and round spectacles. They're the only two victors District 3 has produced in decades, and they've since become united by their mutual peculiarities. While Beetee is superiorly intelligent and robotic in his mannerisms, Wiress is crazed and flighty. Neither of them are big fans of mine, considering that the last tribute standing in my Games was the District 3 female. Oddly enough, though, they've also never tried to avoid me in any way. In fact, it's usually the other way around.

Realizing I haven't answered his question yet, I finally respond to Beetee by saying, "I don't drink. Not yet, anyway." I would wink at them to make the air around us less serious, but it just doesn't seem appropriate.

Wiress mumbles something that I can't quite make out as she fills a glass with watered-down juice and Beetee comments, "Neither do I. Waste of time, I say."

I nod, because I agree. I already have more personalities than I can handle, so I don't really think that drinking would do me any good. Plus, at home I have my mother to think about, and here I have Annie. They deserve to get the real me, not some watered-down version.

After a moment of awkward silence, Wiress notes, "You have a beautiful tribute this year, Finnick. She stole the show last night."

Before I can stop myself, I'm smiling again, and then I'm looking toward the TV that's following Annie, hoping that I can step away from C-3PO and R2-D2 here so that I might actually be able to do my job.

I don't get so lucky, though, since Beetee interrupts my thoughts by saying, "She was quite stunning, yes. Ember hasn't stopped talking about her."

This manages to pull my attention back to them, because I want to know as much about their tributes as possible. I want to know about every tribute, but especially one that's shown an interest in Annie, because alliances are tricky, and Annie is naïve enough to get caught up in one.

"Ember's your girl, right?" I ask Beetee and Wiress. I remember her from the reaping: small, bright, and bubbly. She's exactly the type of person who wouldn't seem at all threatening until the moment she ripped your throat out.

Beetee nods and says, "She's very sweet. We're hoping she finds another tribute to team up with in the arena." He's insinuating that he'd like Ember to be paired with Annie, but I already don't like the idea.

"What about your boy?" I ask. Sometimes, district pairs don't like to work together for obvious reasons, but three is a small district, so their tributes tend to stay aligned in the arena.

"He already has his eyes on 1 and 2," explains Wiress. The male tribute from 3 was tall, but not all that strong, so I can't resist rolling my eyes at the idea of him teaming up with the careers.

Luckily, Beetee and Wiress don't get the chance to see my response before a red-haired woman barges in between them and lunges at the counter of drinks, saying, "Golly, I am _parched!_"

Beetee and Wiress take one look at the rather large, seven-month pregnant Cecelia before they turn and leave, and I laugh at Cece's act. She's one of the nicest people I've ever met, born to be a mother, and finally got pregnant after years of trying. Of course, I can't help but think of the twelve year-old tribute that was reaped in District 8 this year.

"Looked like you needed to be saved," Cece says in a cheerful, joking voice. She sounds even happier than usual, so I make a mental note to not bring up her young tribute. I've always like Cecelia, and so I want to let her be happy for a while.

"I guess it was pretty obvious," I mutter about Beetee and Wiress's invasion. Changing the subject, I motion to Cece's bulging stomach and ask, "How's the baby doing?"

Cece sighs in exhaustion and says, "Kicking. _Always_ kicking."

"And you're _sure _it's not mine?" I respond. In a whisper, I add, "I mean, there was that one time..." But of course, there was no 'one time'. My body is reserved for the Capitol, and the Capitol only. Plus, Cecelia's an old friend; I've never actually had feelings for her. Come to think of it, I haven't exactly ever had feelings for anyone.

Still, Cece plays along, replying, "Oh, drat, I knew there was something I'd been meaning to tell you!"

Faking my pain, I put a hand to my chest and exclaim, "So many secrets! Whatever happened to the vows we made?"

She chuckles lightly and says, "You mean the vows you decided weren't worth hearing?" She's being serious now, referring to her wedding three years back. Cecelia invited me to the televised ceremony in the Capitol, where she moved soon after her Games, but I decided to stay in District 4 with Mags and Nola.

"You are never going to let that go, are you?" I ask.

"Of course not," she grunts instinctively. We're both still chuckling softly to ourselves as we walk over to the TV's, where the rest of the mentors have now settled in. On our way, she asks, "So, how are your tributes this year? I missed the reaping recap, so I haven't seen many of them." She tends to miss the reapings, because she has a hard enough time just watching her own.

"Well, I think it's safe to say they've a better shot than the ones from last year," I say with an ounce of pride in my voice. It isn't really fair to joke about any tributes, especially while in conversation with a hormonal woman, but nobody can argue that District 4 was a disaster in the last Games. The male committed suicide practically before he was put in the arena, while the female died at the Cornucopia.

Cece brushes my lax attitude aside and asks, "Did you finally get some muscle?" These are my words, not hers, for I've been asking for a burly male tribute ever since I became a mentor.

"Not exactly," I say as I take a seat on a couch beside Mags and point up at the two screens in front of us. Cecelia follows my hand to see Kasen on one TV and Annie on the other.

I wait for her skeptical reaction, but I never get it. Instead, she turns to me with a broad smile on her face and says, "I'm glad you've finally realized that fighters don't always come with muscle." Then she winks and walks away to the District 8 screens, which confuses me slightly. I didn't expect anyone to see much in either Kasen or Annie, but Cece seems to have seen plenty hidden behind their innocent faces.

For the rest of the day, Mags and I watch our tributes like hawks. They do as we've told them, staying by the survival stations and learning how to make fires and pick fruits. The instructor has a hard time with Kasen, for he doesn't listen well, but then the female tribute from District 3, Ember, ends up joining Kasen at the fire-making station and works with him closely.

Besides being about his same size, Ember is patient with Kasen. Every time she teaches him something new, she asks him to teach her a new knot to tie, a cycle that continues throughout the day. Annie watches them from a short distance while practicing her camouflage, and I notice Ember looking back at her a few times. By getting close to Kasen, Ember is virtually guaranteeing herself an ally in Annie, which is both genius and sneaky. The last person I want Annie to play these Games with is a tribute from District 3, and I'm looking out for her best interests when I say that. See, when tributes from opposing districts team up, their respective mentors have to work together to give sponsor gifts, and as Annie's mentor, I'm not sure that I can work that closely with Beetee and Wiress.

Still, I decide to let things play out naturally for a few days. I'm not against interfering with Annie's training, but I also want Mags to feel as though Kasen is being and will be protected through this arduous process, and so I can't ask Annie to pull him away from Ember, nor to pull him away from herself.

Meanwhile, I try to ignore the careers, just as I've advised Annie to do, but sometimes I can't help but notice their intimidating presence. Nickel, the tattooed boy from two, is clearly the leader of the small pack. After only the first day of training, his skills with his hands and teeth (no doubt previously trained by Enobaria) attract two sidekicks: Pearl, the beauty from District 1, and Noor, the tall boy from three. Nickel's fists and teeth combined with Pearl's nun-chucks and Noor's knack for electrocution make the trio seem invincible, and their talents don't go unnoticed by the Gamemakers.

After only a few days of training, all the tributes are assessed by the Gamemakers, who score their skills and subsequent chances of winning on a scale of one to twelve. The tributes are given one chance to show the Gamemakers what they can do in a short session on their last day of training, and only their scores are released to the Capitol audience. Even so, they're used for more than just betting and sponsors. The tribute with the highest score nearly always finds themself in an arena that's tailored perfectly for them, whether that be an island for the swimmers, a forest for the hunters, 0r a city for the scientists. Not surprisingly, my Games took place on an island.

Nickel receives the highest score of any tribute: a ten. I know that he and his mentors will be disappointed with the score, but it's very rare to score any higher. Elevens come around every few years, but only one tribute in the history of the Hunger Games has ever earned a perfect twelve. I don't like to gloat about that much, though, mostly because I know that my trident wasn't nearly as impressive as was the sight of my naked body. Before Seneca Crane came around, the Head Gamemaker was a female, and my fourteen year-old self took every advantage he could.

Pearl's score was given before Nickel, and she earned an eight, same as Noor's, who comes just after. I'm impressed to see that Ember manages a seven, but I can't dwell on it for long before District 4's are announced. I'm sitting in our suite with the rest of the team, and I can sense the nerves emanating from every direction. Mags and I both told Kasen and Annie not to worry about their scores, and even not to bother trying for high ones so that they could keep a target off their backs, but I also know how much each of them needs a confidence boost, and a low score can't give them that.

The announcers on the TV give Kasen's score first. It's a four. In our suite, there's silence as everyone tries to take it in. Kasen's stylist is the first to make any sort of noise, and suddenly she's saying something condescendingly sweet in a pitiful voice. Mags and Annie manage to shut her up and then look at Kasen with worry while Dax and I just sit and sigh. None of us expected anything more from the poor boy, but it's not hard to imagine that he must have expected more from himself. After all, Kasen was the one who didn't want to fake his assessment in order to earn a low score, because he never understood the strategy. So, this score isn't fake, and that makes it all the more painful.

Before the announcers move on to Annie, Mags makes an effort to stand from her seat and escort Kasen to his room so that they can talk. Kasen takes Mags's hand willingly, but he looks like he's in as much shock as he was at the reaping as he keeps his head down and unties his string of knots with shaky hands.

Annie tries to follow them, but I make her stay. We hear her score shortly, and it's a six, which is exactly what we were aiming for. It's not intimidating, but it's also not embarrassing. But as Dax and I sigh again, this time with relief, while Starlin gives Annie a side-hug from her spot on the couch, I notice that Annie looks just as distressed as she did only moments ago.

Her face remains stone cold as the rest of the scores are announced. I barely pay any attention to them with the distraction of Annie, but I'm disappointed to see Cecelia's young girl, whose name I learn is Eider, also earn a four. Most of the other tributes score a five or a six, with Maple-Man from the lumber district and Horse-Nose from ten getting lucky sevens. The biggest shock is the nine that comes from District 11's Leo, making me realize that Seeder and Chaff may have a reason to be excited after all. The tributes from twelve are last to be announced, and I chuckle a little to hear the male's two and the female's three. Haymitch may be a drunk, but he can tell when he has hopeless tributes, and this year appears to be no exception.

As soon as Dax turns the TV off, Annie's already half-way down the hall, and I'm reminded once again that she's upset. I don't call after her, but I also don't let her go alone. Soon, she's sitting on the bed in her room and I'm standing in the doorway waiting for her to say something.

When she remains silent, I take a step inside, close the door and lean against her dresser as I say, "I know I probably don't tell you this enough, but you _can_ win this thing, Annie. Your score doesn't mean anything." Of course, I know this isn't what she wants to hear, because it's not _her_ score that she's concerned about.

For some reason, though, she doesn't change the subject to Kasen, and instead keeps it on herself, asking, "You really think I can win?" She's not looking at me as she says it, so I'm not sure how she wants me to respond.

I think about her question for a while, trying to see some sort of way that Annie could in fact become this year's victor. It's a long shot, but that's the way it is most years. It's hard to come up with a reason Annie will win, but it's just as difficult to find a reason she won't. So, I shrug my shoulders and say, "Yeah. Why not?"

Suddenly, Annie's looking up at me, but not in the fearful way that she usually does. This time, her eyes are squinted and glaring instead of rounded and wide. This time, she's looking at me as if we no longer understand each other, as if her eyes aren't the same as mine.

"Why not?" she quotes me. "Maybe because if I'm the victor, then he's the _victim_."

I expected her to say something like that, so I'm not that shocked. Still, if his four meant anything, it's that Kasen is a lost cause. He's sick, and as much as I'd like to see the sick puppy take control of the Hunger Games, it's just not going to happen. Kasen is going to die either way, whether Annie wins or not.

Because she needs to understand this, even though I know it won't change her choice to support Kasen, I say quietly, "Annie, he doesn't stand a chance."

Annie looks frustrated as she argues, "That doesn't matter! I'm still going to protect him. No matter what."

I nod and don't even attempt to retaliate, but Annie fails to notice as she explains further, "He's the only one, Finnick. He's the only one in that arena who will know where I came from. He's the only one who can remind me of home. Without you there, he's the only person I'll recognize."

"Okay," I say as soon as she finishes. "Okay."

She looks at me again, and now we understand each other. "You're not mad?" she asks.

I finally sit beside her on the bed as I answer, "No. I'm not going to tear you away from somebody you care about. I'm not going to do that." I will go to any length imaginable to protect my mother, so I would be a hypocrite to believe that Annie would do any less for Kasen. Mostly, though, I'm not about to do to her what the Capitol has done to me.

For a while, neither of us says anything, though I can feel Annie thinking. I know she wants to tell me something, because she turns to glance at me every few seconds, but she doesn't say a word. Then, she changes the topic completely and asks nervously, "What should I say tomorrow?"

The interviews are tomorrow. Caesar Flickerman will chat up each and every one of the tributes the evening before the Games begin, and it's Annie's big chance to give the audience someone to root for. She knows as well as I do that this will be her only opportunity to stand out, and so she'll need as much advise as I can give her.

Trying to think of a way to maintain the mysterious aura we've built for her thus far, I tell her, "You say that you're going to make it to the end. You say that you're not going to give up, even if you're terrified. You say that if and when you have to face another tribute, you'll be ready. You'll be ready because you have a reason to fight, but you _never_ say what you're fighting for."

"Okay," she nods. For the next hour, we continue to discuss her impending interview, but then I have to hand Annie over to Starlin so that they can get 'fresh' measurements for tomorrow's dress.

I have dinner alone, since Mags ends up staying in Kasen's room all night to coach him for his own interview, and then head off to my room early. It takes me awhile to fall asleep, with images of Annie duking it out against Nickel on their final night in the arena infiltrating my mind every time I close my eyes.

I wake from the nightmares to find that Annie's already been locked away in Starlin's make-up room, which she won't be coming out of until they call her down for the show. Kasen's trapped with his stylist and prep team as well, though they've let Mags inside to keep him calm. This means that I must spend the rest of the day alone with Dax, but it turns out to be slightly more bearable than I anticipated.

He seems genuinely excited about this year's Games, and we end up brainstorming ways to line up fresh sponsors for the tributes. Dax seems to think that this year is the time of the underdogs, and that the people in the Capitol are ready to find someone to root for; all we have to do is let them.

By the time evening rolls around, I'm stuck watching the interviews from backstage with Mags while Dax and Starlin have front-row seats in the audience. I was the only mentor offered a seat in the crowd of Capitol dwellers, but I couldn't let myself take it, because I know that I have to stand with Mags through this, at least until Kasen's interview is finished.

The show starts with District 1, and Caesar Flickerman, the host who's even more eccentric than his powder-blue hair, is thrilled to bring Pearl onto the stage. They chat for a good ten minutes, mostly talking about Capitol fashion and decorum, until she is replaced by the male tribute. Nickel has his time to shine a while later, and though Caesar asks him a variety of questions, all Nickel has to say is how talented a fighter he is when compared to the rest of the tributes, whom he describes as 'runts in a malnourished litter'.

District 3 is up next, and I find myself somewhat curious to see what Ember has to say about her training days and her plans for the arena. Beetee's girl comes out in a sparkly dress that makes her smile seem ten times wider than it already is. She and Caesar make like old friends, with an exaggerated handshake that almost looks rehearsed, and fast chit-chat that gets the audience roaring.

"Now, a pretty girl like you," Caesar says at one point, winking at the audience mid-sentence, "You must be making plenty of friends through your training! Anyone you might want to team up with?"

Ember chuckles back at him and replies, "Oh, Caesar, you know I love _all_ this year's tributes!" I try to snicker at what she's hinting at, but for some reason I feel as though she might actually be speaking genuinely. It's something about her puffy cheeks and wide front teeth – she's far too innocent to be a secret killer. "But I must admit, I don't want to align myself with the wrong person. I'm looking for people who are different. I'm looking for people I can trust."

The audience loves this, and Caesar seems to think it's a good stopping point, so he thanks Ember and then kisses the back of her hand before moving on to Noor, the male from three. His answers are similar to Nickel's, bearing that same sinister excitement, but he still comes across as far less intimidating.

Once he's finished, it's Annie's turn, and Mags and I go dead silent as she walks on stage. Starlin put her in a green dress after all, and I immediately see why. Her eyes are like glossy sea glass on a sandy beach, a perfect reflection of the water surrounding her, and I can't imagine anyone being able to look away. Unlike the Opening Ceremonies, though, this time Annie's hair has been shaped into silky curls that look like small whirlpools, and her face is as open to the world as is the starfish brooch on her shoulder. This year, Starlin and Dax did their job; they kept her perfect.

People are in awe as Annie sits down across from Caesar, and I know all too soon that she's nervous, because those wide eyes of hers are dilating under quickly passing lashes. Still, Caesar gets right to the point, asking his first question as Annie stares blankly ahead. "Annie Cresta," he says, "District 4. The girl from the water."

Annie nods and says, "Yes." I laugh a little from the wings, because there wasn't any question to answer.

"Well, I'd better ask what everyone's just _dying _to know lately," continues Caesar. "Is it true that you have been taken under the sole mentorship of our beloved Finnick Odair?"

This gets the girls reeling in no time, and Caesar only asked the question because everyone knows I normally take the male tributes. Of course, they don't know Annie. They don't know that she's my exception.

After Annie confirms the rumor and Caesar asks her what it's like to work under me, she responds sharply, "Well, he's not the person everyone thinks he is."

"No?" Caesar asks, leaning forward in his chair.

"No," repeats Annie. I don't know what she's getting at, and the last thing I want her to do is reveal my secret to the world. When both Caesar and the audience wait for more, I hold my breath as Annie explains, "He's not just some boy with a trident. He's a fighter. He knows what's worth fighting for."

I can hear the voices from the audience, all the swoons and cheers, but my eyes are on the tiled floor I'm currently standing on. How is it that Annie sees more in me than I see in myself?

My attention is brought back to the screen when Caesar asks, "And what are _you_ fighting for, Ms. Cresta?"

I bite my lips nervously as Annie sinks into her seat and shakes her head, saying, "I can't tell you that." I nod in the background, because she was listening. She was really listening.

"I see," Caesar says with squinting eyes. He comes up with a counter question after accepting her lack of response, this time asking, "Then perhaps you might be able to tell us what you're fighting _against_? Anything you might fear when you enter the arena?"

Annie thinks about this long and hard, and I wait patiently for her to reply. I purposefully didn't tell her to withhold from speaking about her fears, since Dax and I want her to seem afraid. She must realize this as well, for eventually Annie answers, "Yes. I'm afraid of being alone."

This time, the audience whispers in response while Caesar nods seriously and comments, "Aren't we all?" before bidding Annie goodnight.

She leaves the exact impression I hoped she would, and she exits the stage from the opposite side she came, walking through the wings and down the hallway to meet Mags and I by the TV.

The three of us don't have time for greetings before Kasen's on screen, but I make sure to give Annie a wink – not a flirtatious wink, but a real wink – to let her know that she did well, and that it's over now.

But it's not over for Kasen, and all of us are worried about him. Our worry only increases when he walks onto the podium in a tight suit with sunken eyes. He fails to shake Caesar's hand as he sits awkwardly on the couch with his head down, probably trying not to let the crowd spook him, and doesn't speak until Caesar formally addresses him.

"Kasen, my dear boy," says Caesar. "Welcome to the Capitol! How do you like it here?"

I notice that Kasen's hands are twitching, and then I see that he doesn't have his usual rope to tie knots with. When I glance at Mags at my side, I realize that she's now the one tying knots, since tonight Kasen can't.

The boy answers Caesar robotically, telling him, "It's sad. The ground has been covered with concrete, and the sun has been blocked by glass. Everything is different here."

"Different?" asks Caesar. "Is different a bad thing, Mr. Strand?"

Kasen stares at Caesar's crossed knees as he says, "No. Different isn't all bad, but it can be."

Things are eerily quiet in the hall when Caesar pries Kasen for an explanation by asking, "What do you like about things that are different, Kasen?"

"Knots," responds Kasen, and finally he's smiling, and I don't think I've ever seen something so pure. "I like making knots out of things, making them look different than they were before. I like it because nobody else can ever take them apart. Nobody but me."

Caesar tries to comprehend what Kasen said, clarifying things for the confused audience by asking, "So, for you, being different is a way of being in control?"

This makes Kasen's smile disappear instantly, only to be replaced with a wrinkled forehead full of frustration as he shakes his head wildly and protests, "No! No, being different means nobody can touch you. Being different means nobody can take you apart."

And at that, all of Panem can finally see Kasen's strength. At that, everybody in the building has uncovered his fierceness, while everyone back in District 4 has seen the bravery they once failed to recognize. This boy is not just a sick puppy anymore. Kasen is the boy who can't be touched.

He receives one of the loudest cheers thus far, and Mags, Annie, and I join in as Kasen is escorted off stage and comes over to meet us. He goes straight to Mags and hugs her side as she hands the rope back to him. Mags then kneels onto the ground and gives Kasen a long talk filled with pride, while Annie and I try to make ourselves scarce.

We end up in a far-off corner, and though we don't say anything to one another, soon our hands are intertwined. I find myself not remembering how we came to be, nor noticing when we suddenly part for the night, and soon I'm lying on my bedroom floor as I stare at the ceiling and wait to fall asleep.

It all happened so fast, I think, maybe because it's the last night before Annie must enter the arena. But soon I realize that it didn't happen as fast as I thought it did, and that maybe I didn't notice when our hands separated because I knew that we hadn't parted for good.

Annie doesn't knock on my door before coming inside. She doesn't laugh when I sit up suddenly, unaware of what she's doing here. She doesn't even flinch as she sits down on the floor to face me and says, "I didn't lie. I am afraid of being alone."

She's wearing a light nightgown that's slid off her collarbone and onto her arm, but I hardly notice. I'm looking at her sea green, the ocean I miss, the ocean I need. I'm looking at the ripples in her irises when she asks me, "Finnick, will you make me feel less alone? Will you do that for me?"

I've never had the desire to feel less alone, because loneliness is all I've ever known. But as I look at Annie in this dark room and think about all she's ever asked of me, I suddenly realize that I would do anything for her. I would do anything for Annie; it's about time we both knew it.

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><p><strong><em>Note: <em>**_What did you think of the chapter? I realize the end may have felt slightly rushed, but I wanted it to be a bit of a blur going into the next chapter. ;) Anyway, please leave a review! I appreciate them so much and reply to all that I can._

_As for my announcement, I will unfortunately be taking a **short** **hiatus** from fan-fiction starting today, since I have nine exams to get through at the moment (as well as the personal issues I mentioned before). Now, it is important to note that this only includes chapter uploads, meaning I'll still be replying to people's reviews and providing spoilers if asked. Also, I will be **back starting on May 20th** (only one month!), hopefully with a new chapter for 'TUttS' (as well as 'Blood of the Birds' for those of you reading both), and quite possibly the first chapter of my newest story within a few days of my return. I hope you can all understand that as much as I hate to take a break, I really need to right now. But please be patient, and I promise to be back in no time. Until then, post reviews and leave me messages, because they honestly make my day! Thanks again!  
><em>

_-Hailey  
><em>


	4. Turn the Page

_**Note:** I'm back! That wasn't too long, was it? ;) Anyway, I hope you're all still reading because this is a chapter I'm really excited about. Also, as I am officially on summer break, I will be uploading regularly from this day forward, so there's no need to worry about more hiatuses. I'm in for the long haul, and I sincerely hope that you are too._

_-Hailey_

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><p><strong>4 – Turn the Page<strong>

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><p>'<em>The earth is on her knees as oceans cover me. Sail your ship across my sea, and I'll see you in my sleep.' <em>

–"_Turn the Page" (Matt Hires)_

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><p>She pulls me in like a piece of driftwood caught in a riptide. She is still, vulnerable, perfect, and I lean toward her and she doesn't pull away. The first time our lips touch is like being sucked into a dream and wondering when I'll wake, because it's all too good to be true. This isn't me; this isn't my life. And I'm right. Because after one small, yet giant moment, I think – or rather, I <em>know<em> – that this isn't just _me_ anymore... it's us. And it isn't just _my_ life... it's ours.

Annie lets me lead her wherever I choose to go. My lips move from her own purple-tinted, heart-shaped ones onto her eyelids, and I can feel her breath floating past my ear. For a moment, I wonder if she's going to say something, but she doesn't. She ends up being the one to pull my lips back to hers, kissing my neck on her way there. When she lets me open her mouth wider, I understand that her silence is permission.

It's not permission for me to hold her or to touch her, though. We both know that it's not her virtue I'm taking; it's she who's taking mine. I've been with more women than I can count, but I've never done it without payment. Annie is trying to tell me that this isn't one of those cases. This time, it's real, because she wants me, and the permission is for me to want her back.

When our tongues collide and my hands are buried in her hair, I can't help but think of Kasen's knots, because I don't know if there's anyone in the world who would be able to untie Annie and me, not with all the places in which we're suddenly connected. But, of course, there is one person who can tear us apart. Less than twelve hours from now, President Snow will order all the tributes onto the hovercraft that will take them to this year's arena and deposit them there, and there is no way to hide from that fate.

Thinking this, I lean back and catch my breath in a sigh. How can I be doing this right now? What right do I have to lead Annie into something neither of us can finish? What right do I have to do it to myself?

I'm not looking at Annie, but she's looking at me. I know she can read my mind when she tells me, "Don't. This is the last real day we'll ever have. Don't let them take that away from us. They don't get to take any more."

Her hand touches my chin and points my eyes to hers. Her reference to reaping day makes me remember the girl whose name was called onto that stage only a week ago now. She was so scared then, so lonely. Now, she's even more fearful, and she's about to be more alone than she ever thought was possible. But not tonight. Tonight, she won't be alone, and for the first time since my own reaping day, neither will I.

Our lips reconnect in one steady motion, and this time I pull her entire body into mine, picking her up at the waist and carrying her onto my lap. Her legs wrap around my lower back as her hands clasp my shoulders, and I can't seem to hold her everywhere I want to. My right arm covers most of her back while my left arm steers her head, but I need more. I need another hand to brush back her hair, another to trace her water-pruned arms, another to hold her hand.

When we break away once more for air, the hand I had on her cheek is now at her collarbone, and I follow the soft string around her neck until I find her sea glass heart, picking it up carefully and kissing it as if it's Annie's real heart, and as if my touch will keep that heart from ever leaving mine.

I place the necklace back against her chest as if it's the most fragile piece of hope in all the oceans and then I bring both of my hands to her thighs, running my fingers down her nightgown and then ruffling it back up, lifting it over her outstretched arms and throwing it gingerly onto the bed.

Her arms fall back to her sides in slow motion, her eyes on me as mine take in every part of her. Then, before she has a chance to see me coming, I'm kissing her again, putting so much pressure on her lips that she starts to fall backward. Luckily, I'm there to catch her, and I lay her onto the floor and follow her there, until my chest is facing hers once more and our hands are forever intertwined.

I never let go of her, not once. I don't do any of the things I've done before, and so everything is new for both of us. It's slow and gentle, the tide rising steadily until it reaches its highest point, and I'm aware of every second that passes. I'm present, fully and completely hers, and so I know when she's scared, when she's ready, and when she needs me. But she also seems to know when I need her, because she's always whispering things or looking straight into my eyes, creeping up on me and reminding me that she's fully and completely mine. She never lets go of me, not once.

It lasts as long as we need it to, and when it ends, we both know that it's not really over. After all, we're still with each other, lying on the floor of my bedroom with her beautiful body curled into mine. We don't say anything for a while, but the silence is better than noise, and we both understand without having to orally communicate that we still have all night, and that neither of us is going anywhere just yet.

We breathe the same breaths, smile the same smiles, feel the same feelings. I'm even convinced that we share the same thoughts as her fingers stop tracing the freckles on my face just as soon as the arena pops back into my mind. I didn't mean for it to, but the washed-up scent of Annie's make-up from earlier reminds me of the Capitol, and then the Capitol reminds me of everything I don't want to be reminded of.

"I can't ignore it," I tell Annie, because I'm sure that her mind has followed mine. She's right that they can't take this away from us, because we made this ourselves, but they can take _us_ away from _this._ They can and they will, and I can't keep pretending that they won't. I promised that I wouldn't pretend with her.

I'm surprised when she says, "Okay." I wasn't expecting her to be willing to turn the page with me, to look forward while we simultaneously enjoy this present.

I take a good long look at her, pushing her hair back over her face so that I can see her closed eyes open and search for mine as she adds, "We won't ignore it anymore. But I don't want to see it as the end of a chapter. I want to finish our story, Finnick."

Our story. We have a story. For some reason, this idea terrifies me, but in a good way. Not even in a good way... in a great way. Because if we have a story, then this can't possibly be the end of it. We are only just beginning.

"Neither do I," I admit. And then I go into mentor mode, my head spinning to find some way that Annie can do this. I don't come up with anything in particular, but I know that there's a way, so I tell her, "You can do this. You can win. I know you can."

She senses my struggle as she looks up at my furrowed eyebrows and asks, "Without you there? I don't know if I can."

I kiss her forehead lightly, whether to thank her for her belief in me, or just to let her know that I believe in her, I'm not sure. But at that, we're drawn into silence once again, and all I can think about is finding a way out of it. I think of Annie trying to hide until the end of the Games, but I can't picture it until I know the kind of arena they'll put her in. I imagine her teaming up with Ember and the two of them trying to take down Nickel together, but I cringe at the thought of that monster coming anywhere near my Annie.

I'm caught up in my thoughts when Annie says dreamily, "I wish I could take you with me. I mean, I don't want you going back in that arena, but I do wish that we didn't have to be apart."

I'm about to kiss her again for the same reasons as before when it hits me. I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner, because I am a mentor, after all. Of course, I haven't been doing the job all that long, and I've never been very close with my tributes. It wouldn't have worked with any of them, but with Annie, it just might.

I chuckle lightly and my eyes must widen because Annie asks me, "What is it? What are you thinking?"

I almost sit up with excitement, but Annie keeps me on the floor as I tell her, "What if I did come with you?" When she looks confused, I explain, "I'm not talking about literally going into the arena, but Annie, I'm your mentor. I get to send you sponsor gifts throughout the entirety of the Games. Now, I might not be able to send you notes with those gifts, but that doesn't mean that they can't each say something."

I'm not sure if it's ever been done before, but it wouldn't be that difficult to send specific gifts in order to convey messages to Annie while in the arena. I can't predict how much money the sponsors will donate for her, but I am the deciding factor of what to use that money for. And if we develop some sort of code beforehand, I could tell her everything she needs to know throughout various points in the Games. That way, she wouldn't be alone. That way, we could work together.

After Annie wraps her head around the idea, she asks skeptically, "But how will I know what everything means?"

I look around the room for a minute, trying to find something to write with. Reaching my hand up to my bed stand, I pull a pen off the wood, but I don't have any paper. Looking back at Annie, I ask, "Can I have your hand?"

Looking more confused than ever, she turns the hand that's on my chest around so that her palm is facing the ceiling. I take it in my own and start writing as I say, "If I give you a match, it means that you need to run. Somebody's close to you, and you won't be able to hold them off."

Annie smiles as the ink sinks into her skin, my idea finally making some sense to her. She listens closely as I continue, "Food of any kind means that there's more nearby, but I'll only send water if you need it."

She's nodding as I list things off, and soon Annie has her own ideas for the code. "Clothing should mean that I need to find shelter. The Capitol's about to interfere somehow and I need to be out of the way," she suggests.

I write that down as well, and before long we're running out of things I could possibly to send to her. She comes up with something eventually, though, and asks, "What about a knife?"

The idea of sending Annie a knife catches me off guard at first. I can't imagine Annie wielding any type of weapon, let alone using it. I'm not sure if I'd even want her to, because I know what killing can do to a person. Even in desperate times, I'm not convinced that it's worth taking a life to save your own. I don't know that Annie would ever be able to do such a thing, but I think that's one of the reasons I admire her so much.

Coming up with an alternative meaning than simply to fight, I think of what might be useful for Annie to know while in the arena. Knowing that she'll want to align with people, including Kasen and most likely Ember as well, I say, "A knife means that you're about to be betrayed. It means that you can't keep trusting your allies." I don't want to have to tell her that Ember is about to turn on her, but I might have to, and she'll need to know.

She seems to understand that it's necessary, since she sighs sadly but doesn't protest. Then, after another minute or so, she whispers softly, "A rope means that I should watch out for Kasen. Mags is worried, and she needs to know that he's going to be okay."

This time it's my turn to be hesitant about adding the suggestion, but I write it on her palm anyway. Still, the mention of Kasen ends our discussion because it brings us both back to the reality that if Annie finds a way to win, it means that Kasen has to die. And it used to be that only Annie was particularly bothered by the idea, but after Kasen's interview, I can't stand the thought any more than she can.

Just as she's about to cry, if only softly, I bring her stained hand up to my mouth and blow on her palm before grabbing an old bandage from the drawer of the dresser beside us and wrapping it around her. This way, Annie can tell Starlin that she scratched herself and that she doesn't want it healed just yet because it'll be better to go into the arena looking weak, and the stylist won't have to see the code. Once it's all bandaged, I kiss her knuckles and set her hand back down on my chest, knotting my fingers through hers.

As the early hours of morning pass by, Annie and I just stay here together, appreciating every moment that we have. We close our eyes every once and a while, but neither of us ever falls asleep, because we can't, but also because we don't want to. When the silence and stillness becomes more irritating than peaceful, we kiss each other, every part of each other, or I play with her hair while she plays with my hand.

The entire time, we think about us, but we also think about Kasen and Mags. We each wonder if we would be okay if Kasen died and Annie didn't, or if Mags would ever look at us the same way that she does now. And though I'm not sure if Annie realizes it as well, I can't help but think about what the Capitol would do if she won. Would they use her like they did me, tearing her family apart in exchange for whatever human symbol they need next? Or would they discover us and merely use her against me? Would we ever be together even if she does survive? Will we really have an ending to our story, or are we just holding onto that hope because it's stronger than our fear?

But maybe she does understand, because after such a long silence, she breaks it by asking with a deep breath, "If I don't come out, will you promise me something?"

At first, I want to tell her that no, I won't promise her anything, because she _will_ come out, because she _has to_. But that would be so selfish of me to order her to live over a child whom we both love, just so that I can have her again. I can't ask for such a thing, so instead I accept her query and answer, "Anything."

She doesn't look at me, her head buried in the crook of my neck, as she says, "When you get back to District Four, find my father for me. Find him and tell him that I was loved. Tell him you loved me. Tell him I'd been loved." I can feel her cheeks pushing at my shoulder, a smile forming on her lips, as she adds, "He'll like that."

I take her chin lightly and direct her head toward mine so that I can kiss her, hopefully saying all the things I'm not sure how to express... hoping that in this kiss I can say to her that I'll do as she asks, that I understand what she's telling me, and that I feel the same way. And I know that she'll understand, because she just told me that I loved her before I could tell her myself. This kiss is my way of letting her know that she's right.

By the time our mouths separate, my bedroom window is beaming with light, and the sun is the only alarm clock we need. Annie has to get back to her room before Starlin goes in for her wake-up call, so we both get dressed and I walk Annie to her door.

We stop momentarily in the hallway, and she's staring at our locked hands. She's waiting for me to say something, so finally I tell her, "I'll see you at breakfast." I'm not supposed to go with the tributes to the vestibules hidden beneath the arena, but I'm already planning to find a way to take Starlin's place there. After all, I can't very well say goodbye to Annie just after we finish breakfast. I'm not all that certain of how I'll be able to say goodbye to her at all.

"I'll be with you soon," she agrees. I kiss her forehead and then close her door, but I have to convince my legs to walk away.

I'm almost at the end of the hallway and am about to turn into the living room when I run into Mags. I look down to find her crossed arms and tired eyes glaring back at me, and I realize all too soon that she knows – maybe not all of it, but enough.

"What are you doing?" she asks pointedly, but I don't know how to explain. Wasn't she the one who wanted me to be with somebody who wanted me back? What reason does she have to be angry with me?

Thinking all this, I start to get defensive and am about to argue back when she lifts her hand to stop me and says, "Never mind. We can discuss that later, if we even have to." She means if Annie survives long enough, and I would slap her, hit her, do _something_ for implying such a thing if she wasn't so important to me.

But instead, I just listen as she shakes her head and says, "Kasen would like to speak with you. He's in the sitting room."

I nod, not bothering to ask what any of this is about because we all seem to be slightly on edge this morning, and walk into the living room of our fourth floor suite to find an already dressed Kasen sitting on the couch. I think it's the only time I've ever seen him be completely still, as he isn't tying any knots in his rope as he looks down at the rug while forgetting to blink.

I sit down across from him and announce myself by saying, "Hi, Kasen."

He cuts right to the chase, handing me the rope from his lap and saying with the usual indirect blue eyes, "I want you to have this."

I take the rope and run my fingers over it. It's thicker than the rope from my mother's nets, coarser but stronger, and I like that about it. But then my hand gets to the knot in its middle, a knot I've never even seen before, and say to Kasen, "I thought you were the only one who could untie these."

"I am," he responds adamantly, making me laugh a little. "But I'm willing to let you try. Plus, I think the rope suits you better than that trident ever did."

I'm laughing even more now, but Kasen's expression remains stone cold. Noticing this, I ask seriously, "Why are you really giving me this, Kasen?"

My question manages to make him blink, and suddenly he's back to his normal self, twitching and turning uncontrollably as he says robotically, "Annie loves you. I don't know if you know that, but she does. She's been looking out for you since we got here, and now she'll be looking out for me. I'm giving you the rope to help you look out for yourself."

I stare straight into Kasen's droopy eyes as he shrugs slightly before standing up and walking away. Just like Annie, he's always surprising me. And with his gift, I feel connected to him in a way I never did before. His knots are about more than just having something for his hands to do, more than even being able to do something that nobody else can. They're about what Annie and I are both so afraid of... being alone.

Luckily, though, I'm not alone just yet. After a minute to myself, I follow Kasen to the dining table, and Mags appears just as soon as I do, right before Annie and Dax walk in. Starlin seems to have done her job on Annie and disappeared straight afterward, and when Dax winks at me, I understand that he's already made the arrangements for Mags and me to take the places of the stylists before the countdown.

Our last breakfast together is surprisingly normal, and while I thought none of us would want to talk, we soon start up a natural conversation. Dax, who's seated at the head of the table, praises Kasen for his impressive interview while the latter and Mags blush in response. They're sitting on one side of the table and Annie and I are on the other, but the two of us don't say very much. We just listen and nod when we need to, but we're both much more focused on our hands, which are intertwined underneath the table.

Dax reminds us all when it's time to head down to the training center to meet with the other tributes, and after convincing Annie and Kasen to gulp down another glass of water each, all five of us walk out of the suite together.

The cameramen flock around us as soon as the door's shut, hoping to catch some footage of crying tributes, but we don't give them anything worthwhile. Annie and Kasen keep calm until we're in the elevator, and even then, they seem to be doing okay. Both are running on anxiety, because they can't possibly have any energy after such a sleepless night, but I know better than anyone that anxiety is the kind of energy that never runs out.

The elevator door opens and we're the fourth district to arrive, perfectly on time. Annie and Kasen are quickly corralled into the group of tributes, and once the pairs from five and six are here, the first half of competitors are led onto the awaiting hovercraft. They'll be getting their tracking chips installed around now, and I wince at the thought of anything but me invading Annie's skin. But I can't dwell on it, since soon Mags and I are ordered to our own aircraft with the accompanying stylists.

There are no windows in the vessel so as not to give away the arena's location, but it takes us at least an hour to arrive at the underground runway. Mags and I give each other a couple of nods on the way there, both of us happy that the arena is this far away from the Capitol. I don't think it's quite enough to be an island, but there aren't many abandoned cities left this far out, so chances are the arena is either a forest or wooded area, and either one is as much as we can hope for.

We're marched out of the hovercraft in a single-file line, Peacekeepers directing each of us to the room in which our tribute is waiting. The officers seem to have special orders regarding Mags and me, since they hand each of us a portable screen and tell us that they'll be turned on as soon as the countdown begins. This way, we'll be able to watch the events at the Cornucopia even though we're not in the viewing room.

Mags and I walk down the long, narrow hallway together before we come to two opposite doors. As each of us puts a hand around our doorknob, we glance back at each other and smile. I know Mags is still angry with me, and a part of me hasn't yet forgiven her, but today isn't about us. One of our tributes could die within the next five minutes, and we need to know that no matter what we see on these screens, we'll still have each other when we walk out of here.

We turn our doorknobs at the same time and soon Mags's presence is replaced with Annie, because she's in my arms before the door's even closed. She goes from not breathing at all to hyperventilating in my ears as I rub her back and try to control my own heartbeat, which goes from tragically slow to frighteningly fast at Annie's touch.

When the one minute warning is given, she pulls away from me just enough to put her head down and find my hand, which she takes in her own bandaged one before wrapping something inside it. I don't need to open my hand up again to know that it's her necklace, her purple sea glass heart, and I kiss her for giving it to me – for giving everything to me.

We walk over to the glass portal that will raise Annie into the arena like we're dancing, our arms refusing to separate as we inch ever closer to the platform. I want to tell her something that will be helpful, something that maybe I've forgotten to say thus far, but I can't think of anything. She already knows not to step off the platform too soon, not to run toward the Cornucopia even if she sees something there she could use, and to find water before the day's gone because she won't survive a night without it.

It's probably a good thing I can't think of anything to say about the Games, though, because I know those are the last things she wants to hear from me right now. So, instead, we're just quiet, breathing the same breaths just as we did last night and this morning.

The ten second warning comes far too soon, and Annie starts backing away as soon as the clock begins to tick. Because she hasn't let go of my hand yet, I find myself being pulled toward her until she's on the platform and I'm just off of it. I lean through the glass opening and kiss her one last time, not caring if my head gets blown off for invading the portal.

We're at five seconds when I break away and say into those stunning sea-filled eyes of hers, "I'll see you on the screens."

She nods and holds back her tears while telling me, "I'll be with you in the arena."

The glass door closes as I say, "I'll see you in my sleep."

The platform begins to rise when she responds, "I'll be with you in my dreams."

"I'll see you every minute."

"I'll be with you forever."

And then she's gone. My eyes are on the part of the ceiling from which the platform disappeared, and I don't even budge to look at that portable screen that's just flashed on. I'm standing here on some dry beach wondering why I can't move, why I can't get to the water, why I can't seem to swim, why I can't pull Annie back to me as she's dragged away like a piece of driftwood caught in a riptide.

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><p><em><strong>Note: <strong>Thank you so much for reading! This chapter was a little shorter than the others have been, but I didn't want to jump into the arena just yet. Of course, the next chapter will show Annie in the arena through Finnick's eyes, so things are going to get intense pretty quickly. As usual, you can check out the spoiler section on my profile page for info about Chapter 5, which will be uploaded on **June 2nd**. Until then, let me know what you thought of 'Turn the Page' in a review!_

_Also, make sure to check out my newest story (also for THG), titled 'Ebb and Flow'. I'd appreciate it so much.  
><em>

_-Hailey  
><em>


	5. O Sunrise

**_Note:_**_ Just in time (it's 11:30PM EST; I was testing my own deadline a bit), here is Chapter 5. It's very different from the last chapter, much more fast-paced, plot-heavy, and a bit violent. There are also a lot of characters involved and a lot of jumps between descriptions of the arena and then the mentor room, so hopefully you can all follow it without too much trouble. Enjoy!**  
><strong>_

_-Hailey_

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><p><strong>5 – O Sunrise<strong>

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><p>'<em>Lift up your head! O, the night's long and lonely, and nothing's the same when you're gone.' <em>

–"_O Sunrise" (Matt Hires)_

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><p>"Ten," I hear the programmed voice say from the portable screen on the table behind me. I'm still not moving, but I know that I'll have to soon.<p>

"Nine." I manage to open my eyes.

"Eight." I move my eyes from the ceiling and turn my head around.

"Seven." The rest of my body follows my head to face the screen that's waiting for me.

"Six." I pick up a foot and move it one step ahead of the other.

"Five." My second foot follows suit.

"Four." I'm at the table now, and I look down at the screen and can just barely see a string of Annie's unkempt, mousy hair emanating from it.

"Three." I reach out my hand to take the screen and hold it in front of my chest. It's perfectly focused on Annie, who's still standing on her platform and is letting her eyes take in the first sight of this year's playing field.

"Two." I grab the screen with my other hand because holding it with both will help to subside all the shaking. I make myself lean on the table as well, but then the table starts shaking too.

"One." The arena isn't a city, but it isn't a forest or wooded area either. It's a swamp, an incredible, flat mud pit – the perfect way to dirty Nickel's naked chest, and the only liquid that's both impossible to run through and too dense to swim in.

The starting gunshot is deafening even with just the screen, and I feel like I'm back in the arena trying to sort through my thoughts while being engulfed in a mind-blurring noise that drowns out every other sound. The camera stays on Annie as she runs in the opposite direction of the Cornucopia, but she already has followers.

The scrawny male from District 6 has somehow scrapped up a knife and is pointing it at Annie's back, but he's not alone. Noor, the career wannabe from three, is right on his tail, his face already covered with mud as if he's fallen a dozen times.

Annie keeps going but tries to look back, an attempt to find Kasen I'm sure. The camera follows her gaze and I don't see those elephant ears or puppy dog eyes anywhere, and suddenly I'm worried because I don't have a view of anything else.

As Annie continues to run within the oddball trio of tributes, I suddenly hear the sound of a cannon from inside the vestibule. Turning my head frantically to find the source of the noise, I find a second TV on the wall above the door just in time to hear another cannon fire. This camera is focused on the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, the mass of weapons and supplies buried underneath the deepest section of mud on the playing field.

I realize quickly that the first death came from the female career in two, who must have been the first to get to the hidden treasure, because her bloody body is lying in the mud as if she slipped and fell head-first onto a buried knife. Nickel must have arrived shortly after, and the second kill was his doing, a smooth hit on the head with a giant rock on the girl from District 9.

Now, Nickel is crawling through the mud all on his own, shaking off anyone who dares to come near him. He takes on three victims within the next minute – both tributes from five and the male from nine. I can't stand the sight of any of it, but a part of me is glad to know that two districts are already out of the running, and an even bigger part of me smiles at the thought that Kasen is nowhere to be found.

But that thought also hits me like a ton of bricks, because if he isn't dead and he isn't with Annie, where the hell is he? That's what makes me turn back to my portable screen, where Annie seems to be leading her followers around the circle of tribute platforms that form a perimeter around the Cornucopia. There's a lot of fighting going on here too, because certain small essentials have been scattered through the swamp and entice those tributes too scared to fight off Nickel for the real prizes.

Pearl, the blonde from one who must have already received orders from Nickel, is working the field well. Annie passes straight by her, so I get a good look at how Pearl has lodged herself between the platforms from eleven and twelve. She fights off both girls with her bare hands, twisting them in distorted ways before stuffing their mouths and noses with dirt-filled mud. She is rugged, raging, and ruthless. She is a pearl when it's broken, crystalline but sharp, fluorescent but deadly. She is a killer beneath porcelain skin.

Annie is too focused to pay any notice to Pearl, but she sticks to her trail around the platforms, seemingly refusing to get too far out. She looks behind her only once, when she hears the sharp cry of the boy from six who was chasing her. Noor earned a knife from the livid Pearl while running past her, and already managed to get the tribute straight in the back.

This makes Annie run faster, because of course she is now Noor's sole target. At first, I don't understand why he's chosen to come after her out of all the other tributes, but then I see a flash of Ember's white-blonde hair as she runs in the opposite direction with a backpack in tow. She's pointing to something for Annie to look at, and then waves at herself as if telling Annie to find her later on. And then it makes sense. No0r wants Annie so that Ember won't have any allies. He wants his female counterpart to suffer out here on her own, which makes me think that Beetee must be right – his two tributes are _not_ going to get along.

Annie turns to look for what Ember was pointing toward, swerving her head and catching glimpses of Leo running off with a spear and a tiny Eider, the twelve year-old from eight, hopping through the mud behind him. The red-headed Maple Man from seven is already far off in the distance now, having escaped alongside ten's Horse-Nose. It isn't until Annie stops searching the perimeter and looks straight to the center that she finds what she's looking for.

Just as Nickel takes inspiration from his mentor, Enobaria, and bites off the ear of the girl from seven and letting her literally bleed to death, Kasen comes trailing out from the very core of the now-uncovered supply pile. He's lathered in mud so much so that not a speck of skin is showing, and I can't for the life of me understand why he would willingly try for the Cornucopia only to get swallowed by the swamp. But then I get a closer look at him, and it makes me promise myself to never question his tactics again.

The camera slowly focuses in on Kasen just as Annie's eyes do, and though it's almost impossible to tell, the mud covering Kasen isn't all mud. There's a backpack strap on his shoulder, just a hint of blue showing through the brown, and rope is tied around his right arm as he holds a second one in his hand. His shoes are gone, but they've been replaced with buckets of water that he's carefully sliding along as he walks. I even notice a small pocketknife stemming from his dread-lock hair, but I doubt that anyone would notice if they didn't know what they were looking for.

The screen shows Annie smile as Kasen makes it out of the wreckage unscathed, for every rock or knife thrown his way is bombarded by his suit of slimy armor. Nickel doesn't pay him a speck of attention as he enlists male minions from Districts 1 and 8 to help him gather all the supplies and pile it in groups atop the still-dry platforms, all while knocking out the last remaining straggler from ten.

But Annie's elation at seeing Kasen doesn't last long, because just as Pearl yells out from the opposite side of the pit that she's off to follow the boy from twelve, Noor finally catches up to his enemy. Not missing the splatters from his footsteps, Annie turns around as soon as she hears him coming, but she still has nothing to fend him off with. When he realizes this, he comes bashing toward her with some sort of Taser gun, but never gets there in time.

Kasen whips out a rope and manages to make a kind of lasso out of it, swinging it successfully around Noor's feet and tripping him onto the ground where he belongs. Annie nods to Kasen as he comes closer to her, then takes some of the supplies off his back before they head off together. In the background, the female from six appears out of thin air to seek revenge for her partner tribute, but Noor takes his frustration with Kasen and Annie out on her as he untangles himself, bringing the end to yet another district.

I breathe a sigh of relief and let myself relax slightly as I watch Annie and Kasen disappear into the depths of tall, narrow trees that are rooted in thick sludge. They've accomplished more than I or Mags could have hoped for, coming out of the Cornucopia not only alive, but also brandished with all the loot they could ever need. Of course, the rest of the pile has been left in the control of Nickel, Pearl, Noor, and their two sidekicks, but that was to be expected. It was the unexpected I was so worried about.

Once Annie and Kasen feel assured that there's no one following them, which there doesn't seem to be, they stop running and start walking. Annie throws her shoes off somewhere so that she can feel the liquid between her toes, as Kasen asks after catching his breath, "It feels nice, doesn't it?"

Annie nods, and I can see the life in her eyes. Getting past the platforms was the first and arguably most difficult task for her as well as for Kasen, and now they've both done it. Smiling to herself once more, she tells him, "It feels like home."

Hearing Annie say this makes me think of Mags all of the sudden, because she's the one _I_ should be celebrating with right now. It's about time we get back to the training center, anyway, since I feel okay to travel now that Annie and Kasen aren't in any immediate danger.

I walk out of the door and into the hallway to find Mags coming out of Kasen's room at the exact same time that I exit Annie's. Neither of us says anything as we loosen our grips on the screens and smile at each other before I pull her into a giant hug. For once, Mags's silence doesn't worry me. It's not haunting or terrifying; for once, it's comforting. Because I know that she hasn't lost her voice, her greatest weapon, but rather has passed it on to someone else.

We break apart and she puts her hand on my cheek and her smile fades. It's then that I realize that I'm blushing, feeling happier than I think I've ever been, and suddenly I remember how Mags reacted this morning, after seeing me walk away from dropping Annie off at her room.

I don't want anything to be tense between us as our tributes work together through the Games, so I say to Mags after straightening out my face some, "Look, what you said about Annie-"

But I don't get the chance to finish before Mags puts up her hand and interrupts me. "Let's not talk about it now," she says with closed eyes. Opening them, she adds, "I need to make sure that they both wake up tomorrow before I can even think about you. So, let's just watch together, and if they're still alive when the sun comes up, we can start worrying about other things. Until then, we need each other to get through this."

At first, I feel somewhat unsure of what's she's suggesting. I don't want to ignore my feelings for Annie the way I ignore my opposing feelings for the Capitol. I'm sick of pretending. But as Mags walks down the hall and back onto the hovercraft and as I follow her, I know that she's right. I can be as thrilled as I want to that Annie and Kasen have survived the Cornucopia, but the day's not over yet. There's no telling what could happen within the next few hours, because like Annie with me, the Games always have a way of creeping up on people. Like I said, it's the unexpected that worries me.

We're both hesitant to return our screens to the Peacekeepers as we board the aircraft, and as soon as we hand them over, they shut down and we no longer have any way of knowing how the tributes are doing. This notion seems to get under both of our skin during the journey back to the Capitol, and soon I have Kasen's rope in my hands and I can't stop trying to untie his knot so that I can tie my own.

I never accomplish the task, and after a while Mags notices my frustration, no doubt guessing from my wrinkled forehead and sweaty palms that I'm still preoccupied with thoughts of the arena.

"They'll be fine," she says at one point, making me jump a little in surprise. It's the first thing she's said since her speech at the drop-off point, and I can't keep track of her wavering confidence.

Thinking such, I ask her, "Since when are you so calm?"

"Maybe since you became so nervous," she replies, making my joking eyes turn to shameful ones. I hate it when she tells me how I feel before I accept the feeling myself. I hate it because it weakens me, and I hate letting people see my weaknesses. I've only ever allowed myself to be vulnerable once before, and since it happened last night, I'm not quite used to it yet.

Even so, I don't get the chance to retort before we're landing atop the helipad of the training center, and because it's just us for this ride, we don't have any chaperones to lead us out. Instead, we make our way down to the ground floor ourselves, and soon we're back in that familiar viewing room that's been housing all the other mentors in order to encapsulate them in the devastatingly real picture of death.

The mood is naturally somber as I hold the door open for Mags and watch the mentors for Districts 5, 6, and 9 walk past me like zombies after a funeral. None of them have any tributes left, and so there's no point in sticking around any longer. They'll be headed up to the bar by now, and I can't say I blame them.

I finally make it inside and realize that the consumption of alcohol has already begun for some of the mentors. Mags bolts to her place in front of Kasen's screen, but I'm slightly distracted by the sight of a hunchback Haymitch plunging into the depths of the liquor cabinet just beside the entryway.

"Need me to run out and get you some more?" I ask from behind him, because I can't exactly stop myself, and because Haymitch keeps muttering things like 'empty' and 'aw hell'.

He turns to face me with a half-empty bottle of gin in his hand and leans against the counter as he says, "Actually, I would, because until my tribute gets knocked in the head like he should have when he was born, I can't leave this _damn_ mental hospital, can I?"

I chuckle lightly because, again, I just can't stop myself. Haymitch seems to be the only mentor who's already lost a tribute but is angrier about the one who survived, as I only need to scan the couches to see Gloss's bloody hand from punching a wall over the loss of his boy, Blight sitting with the mentors from ten and keeping as silent as mice, and Seeder's tears from watching her girl be beaten to death by Pearl.

"Yeah, well, you might not have to much longer!" a voice calls toward me and Haymitch from the couches. It's Chaff, the male mentor from eleven who happens to be Haymitch's drinking body, and his eyes are on the remaining screen for District 12.

Haymitch thinks nothing of Chaff's comment and rather just shrugs it off, staying where he is and pouring himself a drink. I, on the other hand, am curious to see what happens to his tribute, so after checking Annie's screen to see her safe and sound as she wades her way through the arena with Kasen, I walk over to where Chaff is sitting and feast my eyes on Pearl all over again.

After following the boy from twelve as he ran off from the Cornucopia, she seems to have finally caught up. Still, they're both out of breath as they buckle their knees and gasp for air, and neither of them managed to grab a weapon on their way out. They're just standing there, locked in a stare-off by the outskirts of a tree-filled area similar to the one Annie and Kasen are exploring now. There's an actual stream behind them, though, the first sign of water juxtaposing the mud. It's about the size of a creek, light and clear, and couldn't possibly be very deep.

The boy is the first one to notice it, hearing the flowing water from behind him as soon as his breathing calms down. Just as he turns his head, however, Pearl's eyes are on him once more, squinted and sharp like daggers ready to tear apart the prey. As if in slow motion, the boy turns back, sees Pearl, and then everything speeds up again.

The boy runs from Pearl like lightning, straight into the stream in an attempt to cross it and get to the patch of land on the other side, which looks remarkably similar to the one he and Pearl were on before. The female tribute is right behind him, but halts in her tracks when the boy touches the water and suddenly falls right through it, as if he's been sucked inside a pile of quicksand.

Just about every other mentor in the room senses the shock emanating from this particular screen, and soon we're all staring at it in astonishment the same way Pearl is standing on the edge of the stream and looking down at it in pure fear. The camera follows her eyes to focus in on the water, which we now see doesn't actually have a depth.

There are no mossy rocks underneath the liquid like there would normally be in a creek, and instead it looks like an ocean, translucently blue but unknowingly infinite. When yet another cannon fire is heard and the screen shuts itself off automatically, we all realize just how much the Capitol hopes to cheat this year.

Everyone slowly makes it back to their seats, silently hoping that their own tributes won't make the same mistake, but Chaff steps up and approaches Haymitch, who's still busy drinking in the kitchen. I'm not sure that he even witnessed the event of his final tribute's death, but whether he did or didn't, it doesn't seem to faze him at all.

"Sorry, Abernathy," Chaff says as he pats Haymitch on the shoulder, but Haymitch isn't at all sorrowful.

Laughing out loud, Haymitch finally stands on his own two feet and says, "Don't be! It was about time, let me tell you..." mumbling off as he makes his way out of the viewing room with a nonchalant bow to his 'business partners'.

Chaff watches his friend go knowing that he'll see him again before the night's over and then turns to me, the only mentor who hasn't sat back down, and says, "And then there were twelve."

I smile pitifully before taking my spot next to Mags as Chaff does the same to Seeder. I lost count of the deaths while watching the Cornucopia, so I'm slightly shocked to hear that half of the tributes are already gone. It can't be far past noon yet, and already this year's Games are shaping up to be one of fastest-killing of any before.

"Oh no, they found one," Mags whispers from my side before I even refocus my attention on Annie. Her voice is feeble and frightened, and then she's covering her mouth and looking up at Kasen with trembling lips. My studying of her expression only confuses me more until I look up myself and see Annie standing just behind a knelt-down Kasen as he reaches his hand out to a second creek.

I inch forward in my seat instinctively, my eyes now glued to the television. Annie is sorting through some of the supplies Kasen gathered, trying to clean off the backpacks before she stuffs them full of food and weapons. A small spider catches her off guard as she's swatting some of the mud away, but she isn't afraid of it, instead taking it in her hand and inspecting it for whatever reason.

The bug is miniscule but gangly, fragile but long, its legs the size of a single hair. Annie keeps looking from the spider to the edge of the stream, and it takes me a moment to see that there are more of them beside the water. They won't go in it, though, which Annie seems to notice at the same time that I do.

Suddenly, she's panicked as she looks up at Kasen and yells, "Don't!"

He turns back just in time, without even letting his fingers brush over the water, but is quickly confused by Annie's expression.

Pointing to the spiders that are following the line that separates the water from the mud, Annie says to Kasen, "Look at the spiders. Those are diving bells; I've seen them all over District 4. They _live_ in the water, Kasen, but here they won't go anywhere near it."

Kasen is at first startled to see all the spiders that he had failed to notice before, for he isn't as fearless of them as Annie is. Once he stands back up and hops over toward Annie and away from the bugs, however, he composes himself and finishes Annie's statement by saying, "So there must be something they know that we don't."

"Exactly," Annie nods, and from beside me, Mags releases her hands from her face and relaxes her back. I don't blame her for being unsure that Kasen and Annie would realize the secret of the streams, for I didn't exactly know Annie was such an informed naturalist myself. I think we're both glad that they proved us wrong.

The tributes steer clear of the stream for the next long while, but they decide to follow the spider trail in hopes of finding a dry spot where they might make shelter. In the meantime, I put Mags on watch-duty while I make her some lunch. But even from the kitchen, my eyes linger on the circle of screens, and I can't seem to peel them away.

With the exception of the careers and company who are busy building a clay structure back at the Cornucopia, the rest of the remaining tributes are all off traveling. Maple Man and Horse-Nose are still together and haven't strayed very far, spying the careers like vultures just behind the platforms in the center of the arena. They don't have any supplies, and they know that this year's arena isn't exactly thriving or prosperous, so they must be waiting for a chance to steal some of the leftovers from the Cornucopia.

Eider, the little one from eight, is still trailing behind Leo, who's now caught up to Ember. They seem to have become quick allies, most probably because Leo trusts Ember's decent training score and Ember feels the need to have a strong male by her side. I find myself watching Ember's screen from behind a watchful Beetee fairly often, because she and Leo are wading through the same kind of muddy area that Annie and Kasen are on the adjacent screens, and I notice the same trail of spiders going in the opposite direction on Ember's screen just as the two groups run into each other.

As the four look up to face one another, Eider stalking them from behind, I become extremely thankful for Kasen's bounty of supplies. I'm back on the couch with Mags now, and I can feel Chaff's eyes on me from across the room. I know without a doubt that Leo, eleven's remaining tribute who's been one to watch out for since his reaping, never intended to align with anyone. He could very well be killing Annie and Kasen this very instant if they didn't have water that he so desperately needs.

But Annie and Kasen barely notice Leo's presence as they pull Ember into a hug. It was always the plan for the three of them to team up, which I'm reminded of as Beetee looks at me from the next couch over and winks.

"I'm so glad I found you two!" Ember exclaims after they break apart, her voice energetic and cheerful as per usual. She even takes Kasen's hand and squeezes it, smiling at him loyally.

But as Kasen and Ember bond like long-lost siblings, Annie's skepticism returns to her and she's soon taking in Leo and Eider in flighty, watchful glances. None of them bother to introduce themselves, because they've seen each other's reapings and interviews even if they didn't train together, but I know what silence means in the Games. Communication is only ever absent when trust refuses to accompany it.

Sensing the tension between her companions, Ember suddenly jumps up and suggests, "What do you say we all work together? I mean, at least until we get a shelter built and make it through nightfall."

Leo's eyes twinkle at the thought and he quickly glances at the packs that Annie and Kasen have lugged over their shoulders. Annie catches him, though, gaining back Leo's attention with pursed lips full of threat as she says directly to him, "Fine. But we keep all of _our_ things on _us_."

This time, it's my turn to look over at Chaff, because I know how hopeful he was that Annie would hand all she has over to Leo and let him run off with it. This is my chance to give him a look that says that he shouldn't think so little of Annie and me. He should know that I've trained my girl better than that.

Back in the arena, Leo, Eider, and Ember have no choice but to accept Annie's terms. Kasen, though annoyed that he has to continue carrying half of the lot by himself, also seems rather grateful that Annie was paying more attention to the other tributes than he was. Still, the five of them continue to walk along what they've realized must be the border of the arena, making sure to keep close to the spider trail because the bugs will be sure to stay on safe ground.

They walk for over an hour, and the scenery never changes much. Everywhere is wet and muddy, and the only difference from one patch of land to the next is the amount of trees and other foliage that covers them. But that foliage isn't the kind which one could climb up and sleep in the branches. The bark is slick and slippery, and the trunk reaches into the sky for miles before stemming into a few pathetic leaves. Finding any sort of food source in that arena would be a miracle, which means that the Gamemakers want to keep everybody in the middle, near the Cornucopia. It means they have something up their sleeves.

As the group starts to break down from dehydration, Kasen offers everyone tiny sips of water. It's just in time, too, since they soon reach an unexpected incline, the first hill they've seen in an otherwise flat arena. After assessing the fewer trees, decent view, and most probably drier land that could very well be waiting for them at the top, the gang decides to hike it.

They head up slowly but surely, and I realize just how shy Eider is when Ember tries to ask the olive-skinned girl of her home life and family. Eider mutters something in response that I can't quite make out and leaves the conversation at that, and I find myself hoping that Annie and Kasen can at least get her out of the alliance so that they don't keep dragging her along for no reason.

Annie is the first to reach the top of the hill, and they were right about the view. Her screen shows a picture of the entire expanse of arena, a swampy circle with the barren Cornucopia right in the center and the creeks stemming off of it in almost every direction, separating the tree-filled swamps into slices on a turn-table.

But she doesn't get to study the view for long before everything's falling and the screen's been covered with dust. I stand from my seat in shock, moving over toward Beetee to find Ember looking at the peak of the hill where Annie no longer stands. From beside her, Leo starts running up the hill with Kasen, yelling "It's a landslide!" at the remaining girls.

Leo reaches the crumbling summit just in time to leap onto its edge and reach out on arm for Annie. She's still hanging on by some root buried in the dirt of what is now a cliff, because all the mud and rock has toppled over the edge. At the bottom of that cliff is another stream, the same quicksand kind that Haymitch's tribute was sucked through in a millisecond.

Kasen's panicking by the time Leo drags Annie back onto the horizontal surface, and soon Ember and Eider have caught up and are cursing themselves for not being more careful beforehand. Annie seems surprisingly okay, though, and I try to take comfort in that, because I don't feel okay at all.

I feel like my heart's been ripped out of my chest and squeezed so tight that now that it's back inside of me, it doesn't have enough fight left to pump properly. Meanwhile, my right hand is balled into a fist, which is making my fingers cramp up. Some of them even feel bruised, like I've been mashing them into bone. It isn't until Mags literally pulls me by the shirt onto the couch that I open my hand and see Annie's sea glass heart in the center of my palm.

I've been keeping it in my pocket since she gave it to me this morning, and I must have taken it out subconsciously upon seeing Annie vanish. Now, though, her screen is clean and clear, and somebody's rubbing my back for comfort. At first, I think it's Mags, but when I turn around, I see that it's Cecelia, the pregnant mentor from eight whom I've always been close with.

I'm sure she senses how connected I feel to Annie, since I'm not exactly doing a good job of hiding it. I don't mind her knowing, though, because at least with her, I know that she'll be supportive. I wish that I could say the same for Mags, but I have a bad feeling about what she plans on telling me when the sun comes up.

Cece helps me calm down while in the arena, Ember calms Kasen, and just as the group of tributes get to work on their shelter, us mentors hear a knock on the closed door of our viewing room. I perk up at this, because it's my favorite time of day in the Games. A knock on the door is what mentors live for, because in our case, company only ever comes from sponsors.

The escorts for all remaining districts head inside in a single file line, for they act as treasurers for the sponsor donations, relaying the amount given for every tribute back to the corresponding mentor on each day of the Games. The mentors can either spend the donation money right away and send their tribute a sponsor gift, or they can decide to save all or a portion of the donations for the future. Most will save what they get on the first few days, though, since donations tend to be few and far between until the Games get down to the final six tributes or so. I was an exception to that rule, earning enough donations from the beginning to get my trident, the most expensive gift in Hunger Games history. Right now, I'm hoping that that legacy lives on, because then I might be able to send Annie her first message.

We all gather around our escorts as they hand us each an envelope. Dax gives a small one to Mags and she opens it quickly and sighs. I don't need to ask to know that there isn't enough to send anything to Kasen just yet. My envelope, however, is much thicker, and I open it slowly as I watch the other mentors all open theirs and sigh the same way Mags did, handing the envelopes back to their escorts and retreating to the couches in disappointment.

I am the last one standing and I already know how much there is. Sure enough, I pull out a pile of bills thicker than the many layers of clothing Dax is currently wearing, and he winks at me before leaving, not even asking if I'd like him to save the donations for another day.

I think about what I should send as I walk back to Mags. Of course, she tries to argue with me when she sees the money, saying that we should save it and spend it together, but I haven't told her about mine and Annie's secret code. Mags is so used to knowing everything about me, but right now, she just doesn't understand.

I'm still arguing with her over the matter when Blight, the mentor for District 7, along with the two from ten, suddenly stand from their seats to face their screens. They each have one tribute left, Maple Man and Horse-Nose, respectively, and I glance at their screens to find the two hiders running from something that I assume came from the Cornucopia.

This thought makes me turn to the screens for Districts 1 and 2, and I see that Nickel and company are running as well, though in the opposite direction of their vultures. Clearly, the Capitol is interfering, and though none of us mentors can quite see what's going on, I have a sinking feeling that it might be a muttation, an animal genetically altered by the Capitol in whatever ways they see fit. But no matter what it is, it's moving _away_ from the Cornucopia, and that means that it's headed _toward_ Annie and Kasen.

I don't stop to converse with Mags before running from the couches and into a small nook just off from the viewing room. It's there that I turn on a giant monitor that acts as a gift machine, pressing various buttons until I reach the clothing section and selecting the first shirt I find before inserting the money that sponsors only sent because they knew it would be touched by a heartthrob known as Finnick Odair.

Once I've successfully sent the clothing, which was Annie's idea of a way to warn her of a Capitol interference, I run back into the viewing room. Everyone's on their feet now, but I have yet to hear any more cannon fires.

"What's going on, Mags?" I ask, because nothing looks different on Annie's screen. She and the other four are still trying to build their shack of a shelter, so at least the muttation hasn't gotten them yet.

"I haven't seen anything," Mags explains, accepting the fact that I disobeyed her wishes regarding the donation money. "But whatever it is, it's following the streams. It shouldn't get anywhere near them."

I pray that she's right, but then I hear sharp breaths coming from across the room by the screens for District 8. Cecelia is crying, and it's then that I realize that Eider isn't with the others anymore.

The parachute floats down to Annie at that exact moment, and she knows to rush over to it, opening it quickly before realizing what's wrong. She tells the others to run without needing to check her hand for the code, but Ember stops her, saying, "We can't go! Eider just left to go to the bathroom."

She barely finishes her sentence before the day's last cannon fire is shot. Everything that happens next is a blur: Annie and her alliance rushing off to find the young girl from eight, Cecelia's sobbing from inside the mentor room, and the sun setting for the night in both worlds.

When Annie, Kasen, Ember, and Leo find Eider by the stream, her body does not look maimed or mauled. It is in perfect condition, with one narrow puncture straight in the chest and the rest of her skin as pale as snow. Her wound is not oozing or bloody either, making it look as though her blood has been completely drained. There's water around her too. Not mud, but water, and it even seems like the entire arena has been flooded about half a foot.

The four tributes leave her without staying too long, for the hovercrafts come quickly to dispose of the dead. Realizing that the warning I sent shouldn't apply anymore, Annie deems it safe to return to their half-built shelter, so they all head back up the hill, holding each other's hands as they go so that none get lost in the darkness.

Back in the viewing room, the mentors all bid their condolences to Cecelia and Woof for losing their first tribute before leaving to their suites for the night. They're all given portable screens like Mags and I had in the vestibules that will start ringing if their tribute goes on the move for whatever reason.

Mags is hesitant to leave, but I urge her to go along with Woof, who's elderly and looks as if he might pass out if he doesn't get some sleep soon. I refuse to let Cecelia go, though, for she's still in no state to be on her own.

I try to comfort her the way I always take care of my mother on one of her bad days. I have her sit with me and lean on my shoulder as I stroke her hair, and later on I make her some warm milk that will help her and her unborn baby fall asleep. It takes a few hours for Cece to stop crying and let the nightmares come, but eventually I get her onto her own couch and finally earn some time to myself.

All the tributes have returned to their home positions. Nickel, Pearl, Noor, and their two minions are back at the Cornucopia with Maple Man and Horse-Nose hiding nearby in the bushes. Annie, Kasen, Ember, and Leo form the third and final alliance, and have built a straw fortress atop their hill.

Ember and Kasen are asleep quickly, Kasen wrapped up in a sleeping bag next to Annie and Ember with a blanket next to Leo. I can tell from Annie's tense shoulders and long yawns that she's not planning on sleeping tonight. I don't blame her, and because she's awake, I decide that I'll stay awake too. I promised that I'd see her every minute, and I don't break my promises.

Leo ends up staying awake as well, sitting in the pitch black shack and facing Annie. The camera's using its night-vision now, so everything I see of them is colorless and distorted. They stay silent through the slideshow of fallen tributes that plays in the sky, though I can see Annie mouthing numbers as she counts all the deaths.

"Thirteen," Leo says after the Capitol voices disappear.

Annie nods and brushes a hand through Kasen's dirty hair as he shuffles in his sleep. I'm glad that he wasn't awake to see the slideshow, for I know he can't be dealing well with all the deaths. His body is taking control and making him sleep for now, but Kasen's mind will wake up soon. They're all in shock at the moment, because death hits people in different ways. For some, like Cecelia, it only takes minutes to sink in. For me, it took years.

It's another hour or so before Annie speaks up, and during that time I know that she wants to say something. She keeps looking over at Leo and opening her mouth as if she's about to talk, and after a while, she gives in to the temptation.

"Why'd you save me?" she asks him with a single breath. "And don't say that it was just for the supplies. There has to be a bigger reason." I never had the chance to think about it when it happened, but Annie's right. Why did Leo run off to save her from the landslide when he's playing an individual game?

The dark-skinned boy who must be around Annie's same age looks up with tired eyes and answers easily, "I have five siblings, all younger." I remember the kids he speaks of from the reaping; they couldn't keep their hands off their older brother as he was dragged away.

"You're not the first person I've saved from a landslide," continues Leo, making me laugh a little. "But, from now on, let's separate the stuff when we carry it, okay?"

Annie chuckles before nodding, and I love the sound of her laugh coming from those purple lips of hers. I have to close my eyes to see their true color, since on the screen she's shaded in black, but I still have the memory of last night etched in my brain. I can see it all, every perfect moment of it, and I can't wait for the day when we'll relive it.

When I finally open my eyes, Annie's are facing the hidden camera for the first time, and though I can't explain _how_ I know, I know that she's thinking of me. Maybe she can sense my thoughts about her and so she's trying to reach back out to me, or maybe – just maybe – she's _always_ thinking of me. For the rest of the night, I at least pretend that she is, but a part of me knows that I don't really have to pretend. A part of me knows that it's true.

I don't doze off once until sunrise, though Annie and Leo eventually do. I'm glad to see them get some sleep, though, because they deserve it. After all, they've made it through day one. They've made it to the morning.

I ignore most of the mentors as they stagger into the viewing room at various points through the morning, Cecelia waking and thanking me before heading to her room to get cleaned up for the day ahead of her. Mags is one of the last to return, and I'm still staring at Annie's sleeping face when she gets here.

Mags, much like me and my promises, is a woman of her word, so I know that she hasn't forgotten about her deal to speak to me this morning. Still, I can't say that I'm looking forward to the conversation as she sits beside me and cuts to the chase, saying in a voice that's quiet enough for only me to hear, "Finn, why did you stay hear all night? For Annie, or for yourself?"

I think about my answer to the question for a while. I wonder which response is true as well as which Mags wants to hear, but then I realize that there is no right answer. The true response would be both, and what Mags wants to hear is neither.

So, I answer differently than how she phrased the question, saying, "I miss her, Mags," because I do, and because nothing's the same now that Annie's gone.

But, of course, that isn't the right answer. Once again, Mags is sighing heavily, but this time it's my fault, as she says, "Yeah, that's what I was afraid of."

As soon as the words come out of her mouth, I feel like I'm back at the countdown from yesterday morning. Only now, it's not seconds that I'm counting, and it's not the Games that I'm waiting for. It's all the silent breaths and the distance that's growing between me and Mags. It's the tears from mentors like Cece and the deaths of tributes like Eider. It's everything that will be lost in order for Annie to be gained. It's everything that I'll lose in order to not lose her... in order to find myself.

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><p><em><strong>Note: <strong>Thanks for reading! I know a lot happened in this chapter, so please let me know what you thought of it all in a review! The next chapter will be a bit slower and will be more focused on Finnick and Annie's actual relationship. (For more info on it, ask me questions in a review, check out the spoiler section on my profile page, or follow me on tumblr.) Chapter 6 will be uploaded on **June 14th**. Thanks again!_

_-Hailey  
><em>


	6. Tangled Web

_**Note:** This is a bit of a whirlwind chapter, with a lot going on but a focus maintained on Finnick's feelings throughout all of it. There's less action (but still a lot) and more emotion than the last chapter, so I hope you all enjoy it!_

_-Hailey_

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><p><strong>6 – Tangled Web<strong>

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><p>'<em>What a tangled web we weave, of power lines and city streets. So blow, wind, blow, go on and carry us home. We all just want to see.' <em>

–"_Tangled Web" (Matt Hires)_

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><p>We don't speak. We don't share our hope. We don't even look at each other. We just watch. We just listen. We just wait. And I know why she's doing this; I know why Mags is angry with me. I know that it's not fair. It's not fair for me to love Annie more than she could ever love Kasen, but even more than that, it's not fair for me to fall in love with the one person I can't have. That's what hurts Mags the most: the idea that my life, which has already been filled with so much pain, has even the possibility of becoming more painful. Mags doesn't want to see me get hurt again, because she loves me. And that's why I let her be angry with me, but it's also why I won't be angry with her. So, for now at least, we don't speak. We just wait.<p>

All the screens in the mentor viewing room are fairly quiet this morning. The sleeping tributes are too exhausted from day one to start thinking about day two yet. I remember that feeling well, but just like last night in the mentor room, I didn't sleep at all my first night in the arena. It wasn't for lack of ability, though, because most of the time I felt like I was about to pass out. It was because I was lonely and scared, just like I am now.

But nobody's alone in these Hunger Games. It's the first time I've ever seen _all _the tributes in some sort of alliance, with not even one odd man out. I think that's part of what's scaring me so much, because alliances have a way of falling apart when there can only be one winner. Us mentors understand this well, because while the arena is filled with teams, our room in the Capitol stands divided.

Most remaining districts, with the exception of one, three, and four, have lost a tribute already, and mentors tend to be closer to one tribute out of the two, which is often the one who dies first. At least, that's how it is for Cecelia right now, because even though the boy from eight is still alive, she's lost Eider, and that's all that mattered to her.

But of course, Enobaria has Nickel, and Chaff has Leo. Those two tributes are also still the ones to beat, and their mentors know that better than anyone. And that's okay. I've been in that position before, and I'd rather be where I am now. I'd rather root for the underdogs, because I want to be surprised. I want to be crept up on.

Once Annie's awake, though, I try to ignore the palpable tension from within the mentor room, because they're not my priority, and because she is. After getting very little sleep, Annie is the first in her foursome to see the sunrise, but she looks incredibly tired. I think for a moment upon seeing her that I shouldn't have distracted her a few nights ago. Now, she hasn't slept enough for days, and that's partly my fault. But I just can't seem to regret what we did, no matter how tired we both are or how angry Mags is, because we needed the distraction. We needed to feel loved before these games truly started. We needed to have something to fight for.

Ember and Kasen are the next to open their eyes, and Leo follows within a few minutes. The four of them stay inside their straw hut for a little while, trying to plan their next move, but end up deciding to stay where they are for the morning. That way, they can rest up while also preparing to start their exploration of the arena. If I were them, I wouldn't dare to stay in one place longer than overnight, but I understand why they need to, and it should work for them.

It seems as if the other two alliances aren't up to much either, the careers staying around the Cornucopia as they try to move their supplies from the very center of the arena, which must be where the muttation came from the night before. Their stalkers, Maple Man and Horse-Nose, look on and manage to snatch a few items in the move, their enemies still oblivious to the presence of outsiders.

The quiet makes for a nice change in the mentor room, but I can still sense the tension coming from just about every direction. After all, quiet isn't always the best sign in the Hunger Games. Quiet is calm, and calm means a storm is coming, whether the tributes like it or not.

But for the next hour, at least, the Capitol doesn't try to interfere. That gives us mentors some time to receive our second round of sponsor donations, since the escorts have collected a flow of money that was sent in overnight.

I don't fail to notice that Mags refuses to get up from her seat to receive her donations. I wonder why she's glued to the couch when Kasen's not currently in any danger, and at first I think that maybe Mags assumes that it's pointless to even look at the donations, because Kasen won't be getting many. But I don't think Mags would ever have so little faith in her boy, and so I decide that that can't be the reason.

That's when I realize that she must be worried, and I take my money from Dax without a word of thanks and head over to the gift machine behind Enobaria, who must have received enough money today to send Nickel something. She leaves quickly, though, and then it's my turn, and I find the cheapest rope there is and send it to Annie in a purple parachute. I have to pay extra for the purple, but I want her to know that I still have her sea glass heart, and that I haven't broken my promise to keep it safe.

I sit back down beside a numb Mags just in time to see the parachute falling toward Annie's camp on the top of the muddy hill. She's sitting outside the hut trying to build a fire with Ember and Leo while Kasen's off collecting the wood, and the other two sigh with envy as the gift floats to Annie and reminds them that they haven't gotten anything yet.

"I guess it helps to have _Finnick Odair_ as a mentor," jokes Leo after blowing on a tiny flame. He says my name like I'm the most famous person in the world and as if he detests fame. I can't say I blame him.

Chuckling to herself, Ember comments, "It helps to have Finnick Odair as an _anything._" Back in the mentor room, I can feel Beetee's eyes on me, as if Ember's comment is yet another sign that he and I should be working together.

Annie doesn't say anything to the others, almost as if she didn't even hear them, as she opens the package and sees the piece of rope, code for her to check on Kasen. Following the orders, she leaves Ember and Leo without a word of where she's going and heads into the wooded area to find her partner tribute.

Mags seems completely bewildered by the gift I apparently spent precious sponsor money on, but I can tell after a few seconds that she's glad to hear Kasen's voice. He starts speaking just as soon as Annie's within ear-shot, because it turns out he wasn't collecting firewood at all.

He was sitting on the ground tying pieces of straw together with some of his signature knots, but he stands up when Annie calls out for him. "Hey!" he says excitedly at her once she's near enough to hear.

"What are you still doing out here?" she asks. "And where's the wood?"

Kasen's eyes widen at that, and I can tell he's feeling guilty as he says, "Oh, I forgot about that. I got into the woods and started getting all these ideas, and then I couldn't stop myself."

"Ideas?" asks Annie curiously. "Ideas for what?"

"For this," Kasen answers, holding up the thing he was tying before, which looks a lot like a long ladder, two narrow sticks tied together but also kept apart by knotted vines. When Annie still seems confused, though, Kasen explains, "It's a bridge... for the streams."

Annie understands at once, as do Mags and I. Mags is smiling and there are tears of pride in the corner of her eyes. Of course, Annie and company need to be able to cross the deadly creeks if they want to explore the entirety of the arena, but only Kasen would ever be able to actually solve the problem.

"I also made harnesses for us," he says before Annie even has the chance to thank him. "I was thinking we could each take one and then connect them with some rope from the Cornucopia. Then we'd be linked together – you know, like on a leash. Just in case of another landslide."

I don't think Annie's smile could get any larger or more beautiful as she walks over to Kasen to hug him and whispers in his ear, "You're incredible."

The two practically run back to their camp to show Ember and Leo, Kasen especially hoping to impress Ember as he shows her his newest inventions and asks, "What do you think, Sparks?"

"I think that people underestimate you, Plugs," she replies, reciprocating with the nickname. "But I'm definitely not one of them."

Kasen, who clearly didn't expect this kind of praise from Annie or Ember, tries to brush it off, but even Leo lets the kid know that he's impressed. "You know," he says to Kasen as he inspects the hand-made bridge, "If you keep pulling tricks like this, you might just win this whole thing."

Kasen's eyes light up when he says this. I don't think winning is something he's ever considered possible, and when the camera turns back to Leo, I'm not convinced that he ever saw Kasen as a threat either. Because after he says this to Kasen, he doesn't look happy or lighthearted anymore. He looks nervous, worried, almost intimidated. He looks like he wants to make it out of that arena more than anything in the world, and that Kasen is the only person standing in the way of that.

But the others don't notice Leo's expression the way I do, and instead decide to move on from their attempts at starting a fire and try out some of Kasen's new toys. After packing up the rest of their supplies, all of which is also courtesy of Kasen's sporadic genius, the four tributes set off in their leashed harnesses, Annie leading the way in front of Kasen, with Ember behind him and Leo bringing up the rear. That way, the two strongest are on each end, so that if either Annie or Leo slips and falls, the rest of the line can get them back up.

They walk all day, following the trails of spiders along the arena's border and crossing the streams with Kasen's bridge. They cross three streams by the end of the day, and I'm fairly certain that each one is different from the two I've seen on the screens before. That's all hard to tell, though, since the rest of the arena looks exactly the same just about everywhere.

I'm able to relax through the sight of a safe Annie and Kasen, for not a single tragedy strikes them all day. But that's not to say that the Games have gone at all dry, because back at the Cornucopia, there's enough chaos to provide entertainment for all of Panem.

It starts when the careers have finished moving their supplies, but Nickel suddenly notices that some of it has disappeared. All of the mentors of course know that Maple Man and Horse-Nose have been stealing things at every opportunity, but Nickel doesn't even consider the possibility that anyone out of his alliance could get past him.

With this in mind, he turns back to his group and starts fuming at them, yelling things like, "Whose game do you think you're playing?" and, "Better confess before I get angry!" But of course, he's already angry, because he has a team of five mouths to feed and half of his food has gone missing in an arena that has no natural resources. At least, that's _my_ reasoning for him, but really, I think Nickel's just always angry.

Because he trusts Pearl and even Noor to a certain degree, he doesn't question them anywhere near as much as the two guards he recruited yesterday, the males from Districts 1 and 8. Neither of them confess to taking anything, pleading innocent and begging Nickel to spare them, but they also don't have an explanation as to where the food went if they weren't the ones to take it. This seems to be the only thing Nickel listens to in the confrontation, and so after hours of arguing, the Cornucopia's day ends brutally.

Pearl protects her tribute partner, which ends up giving Nickel the perfect excuse to single out the boy from eight. And none of this would be so bad, nor would it be nearly enough action for a day in the Games, if it weren't for the _way_ that Nickel ends up killing him.

He has fire in his eyes as he tears the boy apart limb for limb, hitting him in contorted ways that must break every bone in his body before he actually dies, which doesn't happen until Nickel steels a pair of nun chucks from Pearl and strangles his ally turned adversary until the chains leave a permanent mark against skin that's now drowning in blood.

I watch his death from start to finish, refusing to peel my eyes away because I want to understand how this sort of violence in a seventeen year-old boy can be called entertainment. I want to understand how the Capitol can relish in such a thing, how Pearl and Noor can stand by and watch it happen, and how mentors like Enobaria can drool with delight at seeing it. I want to know why Nickel is allowed to train his entire life to be a killer, and why President Snow won't give me my mother's medicine without confining me to prostitution. I watch this death because that's what I'm here for: to watch. I'm here to watch lives end and to remember all the ones that I played a part in ending.

But miraculously, the death isn't the worst part. That comes after, when District 8 has officially been wiped out, meaning that it's time for Woof and Cece to leave. They themselves didn't watch the majority of Nickel's wrath on their tribute, turning away from the television as soon as it started because they already knew how it would end. Even so, they don't venture from the mentor room until the cannon's fired.

Saying goodbye to Cecelia is like watching the snow disappear in the middle of winter. In a world that's dry and cold, she is the one thing that's still soft and light, and it seems pointless to stay when she has to go.

After wishing luck to all the remaining mentors, Cece finally makes it over to me, and I pull her in for a hug as she says, quietly enough that only I can hear, "Keep fighting for her. She's worth it." And then she's gone.

There's something abhorrently comforting about hearing such words from Cece when they're the exact words that I wish Mags would say, but that I know she can't. I haven't once doubted my night with Annie to be worth all the heartache that has yet to come, but sometimes it's nice to know that I'm not alone even without Annie here. I want people to understand how I feel right now, because no matter what comes next, Annie's made me happier than I've ever been.

I try to remember that as I sit back down and face the screens once more. It's nearing nightfall in the arena, and Annie's alliance has decided to camp in between two streams, as far away from the water as they can get, since that seems to be where the muttation is confined.

But the 'monster' doesn't appear to be anywhere near them as it strikes again. This time, the careers are ready for it and have already run into the surrounding trees, so once again, we don't get a view of the thing from the mentor room. It's definitely coming from the Cornucopia, though, and from there it seems to follow the streams. It floods the arena again, as well, so now there's over a foot in just about every surface, making it difficult for the remaining tributes to find places to sleep.

Annie and company come across a pile of rocks in whatever part of the arena they're currently in, each of them settling themself on top of one in hopes of drying off from the swampy waters below. They don't talk much as they watch the sky for the photo of the kid from eight and then try to fall asleep, and eventually it becomes obvious that the boys have dozed off, because they're both snoring, perfectly in sync with each other even though Leo's noises are deep and smoky while Kasen's are squeaky and childlike.

Ember, who assigned herself to stay on watch-duty for a few hours, sighs upon hearing them and asks Annie, "Can you sleep through this? Because I'll wake them up if you can't."

Annie laughs and says, "Don't do that. I'm fine. Anyway, it's nice to hear them like that. They're less scared than they were yesterday."

For a moment, Ember seems to consider Annie's words. Then, instead of responding directly to them, she changes the subject and says, "Annie, do you miss District Four?"

I'm one of the only ones left in the mentor room, with Beetee on the couch beside me, since our tributes are the only two who have yet to fall asleep. But right now, Beetee's in the kitchen making coffee, so I don't try to hide my interest in Annie as she talks to Ember. Instead, I lean forward toward the screen as if I'm about to see and hear the most riveting thing of all time, and in a way, I am. The thing about Annie is that regardless of how connected to her I feel, we haven't actually had that many opportunities to get to know each other. And she might just be the only person I've ever wished to know _everything_ about.

"Of course I do," answers Annie once I'm focused enough to listen. "I miss the water." So do I. I can't help but feel like she's talking to me, and so I feel as if I need to answer back.

The screen moves to Ember for a moment, and she's smiling as she asks, "What's it like? The water." District 3, where Ember comes from, is a concrete jungle. They wouldn't even know what water looks like outside of their sinks.

Annie takes a while to respond, so I try to think of how I would answer if I had to. One word comes to mind, but Annie takes it out of my mouth as she says, "It's like freedom."

As Annie's eyes squint and her forehead wrinkles, she asks Ember, "Why are you asking me all these questions, anyway?"

Ember seems to have an explanation prepared, because she replies like she's been planning what to say, "Because if these games come down to us – all four us, or even just the two of us – I don't want to have to kill you, Annie. And the more I know about you, the harder it will be to do it."

Neither of the girls needs to say anymore. They trust each other now, and so they each know that they don't have to talk about the inevitable. They'll face it when it gets here, but for now, what they really need to do is sleep. So, with perfect timing, they both close their eyes.

I realize quickly that even though I could easily watch Annie sleep all night, I should probably take better care of myself. So, I stand from my seat and am about to leave the room to head back to the fourth floor suite when I see Beetee still in the kitchen with his cup of coffee.

I have my hand on the door, but suddenly I decide to take it off so that I can walk into the kitchen and offer it to Beetee. He looks at me confusedly before a thin smile spreads across his face and his eyes fill with hope. He shakes my hand almost excitedly, like he's suddenly giddy with happiness.

Sensing that I'm still slightly hesitant, Beetee says seriously, "You have my word, Finnick. The past is the past, and we will not betray you for it."

"And you have mine," I reply with a nod. If Annie's going to win this thing, she'll need all the help she can get. Beetee's in good relations with the Capitol since he was elected mayor in District 3, so he could actually prove himself useful in the near future.

But like Annie and Ember, Beetee and I know to leave it at that, and he stays behind to finish his drink as I leave for my room. It's quiet once I get to the suite, so I have no interruptions on my way to my designated bedroom.

I'm exhausted as I open the door and walk inside, but then once I'm there, I don't feel much like sleeping anymore. Something feels wrong, like I shouldn't be here, and then I realize that I'm right. It's just that I shouldn't be here _alone_.

Because the last time I was in here was on my night with Annie. She didn't leave anything to remind me of it, at least nothing material. But for a moment, I think I can smell her. It's not exactly possible, because the Capitol has an insane amount of cleaning staff, but I swear her scent is somewhere inside here, or maybe just inside me.

It's the ocean on a windy morning, salty but comforting. It's the smokiness of a bonfire on the beach, made entirely from burning driftwood. It's the piece of seaweed that I found in her hair on the train from District 4, fresh but unfamiliar. Her scent is a blend of all the best parts of where we came from, and she's the best part of home.

I lay down on the same patch of carpet that we made love on, my back on the floor as my eyes face the ceiling. I try to picture Annie there, her face staring back at me the way it was on that rock in the viewing room, her round eyes as fascinated by me as she always seemed to be when she stared. And before I know it, my imagination turns into a dream, and I don't wake up until I hear a loud beeping sound from my bedroom wall.

Still groggy as I open my eyes to a newly light-filled room, I instinctively reach my arm out to the bedside table sitting beside me. But when I don't feel the usual alarm clock atop it, I remember that I'm not at home in District 4. Then I think about where the beeping must be coming from, and panic when I realize it's the warning that's sent out when a tribute is on the move.

I jump up in a frenzy and run out the suite, which Mags seems to have left a while back, then race down the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator until I get to the first floor. From there, I only have to go through one last hallway until I'm finally inside the viewing room and am soon at Mags's side, staring up at Annie's screen and expecting her to be dying, but relieved to see that she's perfectly fine.

Breaking her vow of silence because she notices my gasping for air, Mags says, "They're just walking. More exploring today, it seems."

Once my heart stops thumping and I catch my breath, I ask, "Where are they?"

Mags shrugs because it's hard to tell, but then a voice from behind me says, "It looks like they're coming up on mine."

I turn around to see Blight, the one and only mentor for District 7, staring at Annie and Kasen's screens as he chows down on a stack of waffles. He's much older than I am but far younger than Mags, his facial hair scruffier than Chaff's but tamer than Haymitch's, and his eyes more crazed than Beetee's but warmer than Enobaria's. Maple Man is his only remaining tribute, and of course, I know where that ginger's hiding.

Yet again in panic-mode, I run over to the sponsor gift machine and search my pockets for any money I might have left over from the donations for the last two days. Annie needs to know that she's about to run into somebody before she and Kasen walk straight into the Cornucopia and get torn apart like Nickel did to Cece's boy.

But then something hits me. I think it must have come from the recent memory of Annie's talk with Ember, because usually I wouldn't be at all supportive of teamwork, much less any type of trust. But I was also the one who watched Nickel relish in the act of killing a teenage boy yesterday, wondering why _he_ could get away with such things and why nobody would stop him. Well, this is the time. This is the time for him to be stopped.

By now, Blight has returned to his own seat in front of Maple Man's television, and I approach him rather frantically as I point to the screen and ask, "Is he trustworthy?"

Blight considers my question for a while, glancing over at Mags (who's staring back at me like I've gone insane), before turning back to me and saying, "That depends. What would he be getting out of letting them live?"

"Nickel," I respond without any hesitation. I don't care that Lyme and Enobaria hear me from across the room, because they know just as well as I do that if the non-careers form their own power alliance among the six of them and decide to take out Nickel, there's absolutely nothing they can do to stop them.

Blight likes this idea, for he's lighting up as he notices the fear penetrating the faces of the normally fearless mentors from District 2, the district that has been responsible for the most victors in all the Hunger Games. He's wanted to screw them over for a long time. In fact, we all have.

Mags is with us now, along with the quiet mentor from ten, Chaff, Seeder, Beetee, and Wiress. The latter two are the only ones who have tributes on both sides, Ember with Annie's alliance and Noor with the careers, but it's fairly clear which tribute they're rooting for when they come to me and Blight.

"But how will they know what to do?" asks Beetee, the voice of reason before we all get too excited. "I've told Ember to run off if she gets near anyone she hasn't already established a trusting relationship with."

Good question. Annie would do the same, Kasen and Leo too probably. But something tells me that this will work, because Annie expects me to send her a match if there are other tributes nearby. If I _don't_ send her one, but she still comes across other tributes, maybe she'll understand that they're not a threat. Maybe she'll understand that they all want the same thing.

Trying to come across more confident in this plan than I actually am, if only to instill the same confidence in the other mentors, I tell them quite matter-of-factly, "It doesn't matter. Annie will know what to do."

I don't try to read into who's hesitant and who's not as we all turn back to the screen that will soon show all of our tributes, waiting for them to collide. This happens within the next minute or so, Annie leading the way into the area of bushes that Maple Man and Horse-Nose are currently hiding in.

Kasen is the first to notice where in the arena they are, for of course he was the only one of them who got the full picture of the Cornucopia after the countdown. He points it out to Annie and then they both motion for Ember and Leo to get down low before they're seen by the careers, each of whom is sitting by one of the various piles of goods they have left, literally guarding them with their lives.

Annie, being the closest to the bushes now, is the first to see a face from within the green. She backs away slowly as she locks eyes with Horse-Nose, but then Ember squeals suddenly from behind them. Turning around, Annie sees that Maple Man's already leapt from the bushes and wrapped his arms around Ember's neck, but Leo's got a knife out from his pack and is threatening to cut the boy's arm off if he doesn't let Ember go.

"Remember, _we're_ the ones with the weapons," he snarls as Ember and Kasen both hold their breaths in fear.

Sighing, Maple Man lets go of his grasp on Ember and Horse-Nose reveals herself from the foliage, the six of them now facing each other and wondering what to do next. Maple Man and Horse-Nose can't exactly leave, because the careers are currently acting as their source of nourishment, and only Leo is willing to kill in the group of four.

Trying to avoid just that, Ember is the one to suggest that they leave and forget they ever ran into anyone. Kasen nods at the idea, Leo agreeing just to please them, but Annie doesn't say anything. Waiting for her confirmation, Kasen asks from beside her, "Annie? Come on, let's go."

In the viewing room, all eyes are on me as the mentors wait for Annie to stop the others. I try my best to will her to sense my thoughts, to understand what I'm trying to tell her through my silence, if only so that the pressure from their glares will subside.

Somehow, this works, because Annie says fiercely, "No. We're not going anywhere."

It takes a while for her to convince the others that they can trust Maple Man and Horse-Nose, and that this is their only opportunity to try to cause some chaos for the careers before those same tributes hunt down and kill every last one of them. The two outsiders are the first to agree, because of course they have nothing to lose. Then, once Leo wraps his head around the idea, Ember gives in, and Kasen promises to follow Annie in whatever she decides to do. That settles things, and before long, they're planning their attack.

Kasen only managed to scrap together two knives, one spear, and an axe at the Cornucopia, so not everyone gets to wield a weapon. Still, the decisions are made without much disagreement, Maple Man taking the axe, Leo and Ember taking a knife each, and Annie getting the spear. Horse-Nose says that she's fast, so she volunteers to act as bait so long as someone's there to cover her. Leo offers to, because he wants to go against Nickel. Kasen makes the same offer, though he does put together a sort of lasso from his harness that he thinks he might be able to defend himself with. Annie says that he's sticking with her, and that she wants to go for Noor. Maple Man and Ember decide to make the last pair, teaming up to take on both tributes from District 1.

They don't wait for any sort of sign before the attack, because there really isn't any point; it's now or never. But as they take their positions behind their designated victims, all of whom are currently armed, the other mentors and I revert back to our own screens so that we have a clear view of each tribute. Meanwhile, Gloss, Cashmere, Lyme, and Enobaria watch on helplessly from their own positions as the lack of control eats away at them.

Because they can't see each other, Annie and the others don't have any way to time their attacks, and Ember and Maple Man end up being the first out. They go after Pearl, and Maple Man's skills with the axe prove to be pretty powerful, as he's beheaded the blonde beauty before the boy from one even notices that he's there.

Hearing Pearl's scream followed by the cannon fire, however, sets Nickel and Noor off, so when Leo goes for the former and Annie for the latter, the careers see them coming. I lose sight of Leo and Nickel as I turn my attention to Annie and Kasen, though, and Noor is furious to be facing them again.

He runs after them with his Taser gun, but they don't run away this time. Instead, Annie throws her spear straight for him, and though it's a perfect shot, Noor manages to avoid it by swerving around the stick. But that doesn't get him anywhere, since Kasen sneaks up from behind and catches his leg with the lasso, tripping Noor onto the ground and into the muddy water where he can't find his footing.

Annie circles back around to collect her spear while also helping Kasen, the two of them pulling on the rope together until Nickel screams because he's been hanging on to a rock under the water and their pulls have broken his leg. But Annie and Kasen become distracted when another cannon fires.

I look around the room to see the mentor from ten cursing to himself, so I know that Horse-Nose is gone. Maple Man seems to know this as well, since he runs off from Ember's screen just as soon as his ally's been killed. This leaves Ember alone with the boy from one, and though Ember's talents with a knife aren't terrible, the boy wants revenge, and his talents with fury outweigh Ember's. He kicks her in the stomach, making her cough up blood, before heading off to run after Maple Man, since _he_ was the one to kill Pearl and not Ember.

Annie and Kasen are close enough to Ember to see what's happened, though Noor gets a scratch in on Annie from a pocketknife he must have had in his pants, though he's still writhing in pain on the ground. Though I'm not sure how big of a cut it is, I can feel the pain as if it's on my own skin, but also as if it's in my heart.

I'm proud of Annie when she manages to keep walking, Kasen helping her hop over to Ember. Annie tries to take a look at Ember's bruised stomach while Kasen wipes her face from the blood that's still spewing from her mouth, but there's not much either of them can do, especially once they hear a sound even louder than a cannon fire.

It comes from the very core of the Cornucopia, the part the careers have been pulling their supplies away from, and finally I get a comprehensive view of this year's muttation. It's a spider, eight-legged and giant, but it's kept strictly on the paths of streams that stem off the platforms. Still, in order to get to one, it has to go straight past the spot where Ember is sitting injured in the swamp.

As the spider comes crawling at them, programmed to stay on course, Annie and Kasen try to get Ember away from it, but they don't manage to pick her up in time. Leo's with them now as well, abandoning his fight with Nickel to aid his friends. But even by the time he's there, they can't avoid what's coming for them, so they all decide to run, Ember managing to pick herself up while leaning on Kasen and Leo's shoulders as they head in the same direction in which the boy from one disappeared.

They catch up to him pretty quickly, and he must have fallen into the water at some point because he's soaking wet. Leo takes the opportunity to go after him now, nodding to Annie to take Ember from his side, and then he's off, fighting the boy to the main stream because Leo knows where it is from his explorations, but the boy can't see it as anything different than the shallow water he's running through now.

Leo pushes the boy in just as the spider's coming along, and the muttation wraps him in mucus-like silk before sucking his blood and moving on, flooding the arena all over again as it goes. That makes the swamp a full-on lake, now over two feet deep in all areas but the hill that the foursome camped on the other night, and that they've now come across again.

They half-swim, half-walk to the top of it until they reach dry ground, where they all collapse on each other in a mixed state of anxiety and relief. The mentor room is not dissimilar, though Gloss and Cashmere are slamming the doors like children before anyone has a chance to see them go, and the mentor from ten only shakes Blight's hand on his way out.

I can't say that I'm all that disappointed in how my plan worked out, because three more tributes gone means greater chances of Annie making it to the end. Still, I don't feel very pleased about Nickel's survival or Ember's injury. But I don't get the chance to dwell on things or even apologize to Beetee before Dax is in the room, coming up from behind me and telling me that I have a phone call.

"I'm kind of busy at the moment, Dax, so unless you have more sponsor donations, I suggest you leave me to my television," I tell him without hiding my current irritation, but he doesn't go away.

"You want to pick this up, Finnick," he says, and I can tell by his tone that it's important. He knows how I've been watching Annie, because he's seen me with her throughout this entire process, so he wouldn't interrupt if it wasn't the most important phone call I'd ever have.

I nod and then get up to walk out with Dax, Mags watching me go. Dax has the phone in his hand, but he doesn't give it to me until I'm outside the room and in the quiet hallway. I take it and then he goes back inside to give me some privacy.

"Hello?" I say.

"Hello, Finnick? This is Dr. Galen; I've been looking after your mother while you've been gone."

"Yes." I don't know what else to say, because I already know what he's going to tell me.

"I'm afraid that Nola's condition has become much worse than when you left her. If I were you, I'd try to take a few days off and come back home, before she becomes the one who leaves you."

I don't say anything. I just hang up the phone and press my back to the wall in the hallway before sliding down it until I'm sitting on the floor in a fetal position. I don't even consider the doctor's suggestion, because I can't leave now, but I also can't accept the idea of not saying goodbye to my own mother.

I'm still sitting here, feeling numb but not yet crying because I won't let myself, when Mags comes out of the mentor room and sits down beside me. She seems to know what the phone call was about, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she reaches into the front pocket of my collared shirt and takes out the rope Kasen gave me – the one with the knot that I still haven't been able to untie.

She hands it over and I start tying more knots in it, as many as I can fit in a single piece of rope, because for some reason it's comforting. And Mags just sits with me through all of it, because she knows that it's not fair. It's not fair for me to fall in love with the one person I can't have, but even more than that, it's not fair for the one person I _can_ have to leave me. That's what hurts me the most: the idea that my life, which has already been filled with so much pain, is about to become more painful. I don't want to get hurt again, and that's why I let Mags sit with me. That's why we don't speak. That's why we don't look at each other. That's why we wait.

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><p><em><strong>Note:<strong> What did you think? Any thoughts as to how Annie's alliance is going to fall apart (since that's bound to happen before the end)? Let me know in a review! The next chapter will be uploaded on **June 26th**._

_Also, I'd just like to thank you all for the heaps of positive feedback I've been getting for this story so far. I planned it out to have only eleven chapters, which I'm going to stick to, but I've become really attached to it, so I actually came up with an idea for a sort of sequel that would follow Finnick from the end of the 70th Games up to his death in Mockingjay. Check out my profile page for more info and please let me know if you think you'd be interested, since I'm not sure yet whether or not I'll go through with writing it.  
><em>

_Thanks for reading!  
><em>

_-Hailey  
><em>


	7. You Are the One

_**Note:** I don't really have anything to say about this chapter, as I think it tells itself. This one does mean a lot to me, though, so I really hope that it can mean something for all of you as well._

_-Hailey_

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><p><strong>7 – You Are the One<strong>

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><p>'<em>Time is like a river flowing. It's rushing over us, and if the current pulls us under – if we're turned around or broken – you'll be the one I want.' <em>

–"_You Are the One" (Matt Hires)_

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><p>You never know, do you? You never know what to expect until it comes. You never know just how bad it can get until it gets worse. You never know when your world is going to end until it does. It all happens so quickly, and then it's over, and you can't go back. You can't turn around. You can't start over. All you can do is try to mend the wound, subdue the pain, learn to breathe again. But that part isn't as instantaneous as the part when you break, because it takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.<p>

My mother used to say that to me. She used to talk about grief like it was a river – just a long, narrow expanse of time that flowed into a dead sea. Fighting that grief was like swimming upstream, going as far as the water could take you until you turned into rain, because that was the only way to heal. But there were no rivers in District 4. There was only ocean, an endless dead sea, and so my mother never could pull herself away from the grief. After she lost my father, she didn't even know how to swim anymore. Before I managed to teach her, she got sick, and the uphill battle since then has been too much for her to take. Soon, she'll be gone, and that's why I can't stop thinking that my world is about to end. That's why I'm trying to pinpoint the exact moment that it started to fall apart, because I want to know how long I have. I want to know how long it will take to put myself back together again.

But my wondering is pointless. I think it's the end of the world now, but it isn't. My mother is still alive, and until I can't say that anymore, it means that I haven't broken yet. I refuse to break before I have to, if not for me, than at least for Annie. She needs me right now, so I'm not going anywhere, but my mother is still alive, and that means that she needs me too.

Finally coming to my senses, I thank Mags for comforting me and help her up from the floor before I rush back into the mentor room to find Dax. For once, he's not busy chatting with anyone, because all the mentors are still numb following the alliance's attack on the careers. I'm careful not to look toward them or the screens right now, though, since I know Annie would pull my attention away from where it currently needs to be. Annie could pull my attention away from anything.

I touch Dax on the shoulder and he turns around instantly. With a quick glance at my tearing eyes, he understands what I want without needing me to say it, gesturing to the door and leading me outside once more. He then hands me a tablet about the size of that portable screen I watched the Games on during the countdown, pats me on the shoulder with a curt nod, and leaves me to my lonesome.

I press a few buttons on the tablet and soon see a hologram of my mother protruding from it. She's in her Capitol-provided water bed inside my house at the Victor's Beach, her body thinner than it was when I left and her breathing loud and hoarse. With a single glance at her, the water in my eyes have become tears and are flowing down my cheeks and dropping to the floor before I can wipe them away.

"Mom," I say, because there should be a tablet sitting beside her bed with my own hologram coming through.

"Finn," she says as she tries to turn toward my voice, though it's clearly painful for her to move even that much.

I close my eyes when she says my name, but then I remind myself that I can't be the weak little boy who needs his mother right now. I have to be strong because my mother needs me. So, when I open my eyes again, I tell her, "Don't – don't say anything. I just wanted to check up on you and tell you that I can't come home just yet."

In this moment, I wish more than anything in the world that I could lie to her. I wish that I could tell her that I'm on my way to District 4 right now, that I'm about to get on the train that will take me to her, because I know that's what she wants to hear. That's what would make her happy. But I just can't. I can't betray her like I do everyone else. I can't let her see that side of me, especially if it's the last part of me she ever sees.

"I know," she surprises me. I can see her trembling smile and it makes me think that she's only doing this for my sake, and even though I know it should be the other way around, I smile too. I smile even more when she adds, "Finish what you started. I'll wait for you."

Laughing sadly, I say, "You'd better, because I'm going to hold you to that." And I will, because I know her. I know she's strong enough to keep going, and right now I need her to be. I need her to be there when I get back, because whatever happens by the end of the Games, I need to have somebody to tell about Annie, and I want Nola to be that person.

The hologram shuts off after my mother nods at me and closes her eyes to get some rest. Still, I find myself holding the now blank tablet for a short eternity as I try to collect me thoughts. A part of me doesn't want to go back into the mentor room looking like this, but a bigger part of me doesn't really care what any of my peers might think. Let them see my emotion. Hell, let them even tell Snow about it. There's not much left he can do to me that he hasn't already done.

I try to hold on to that thought, pushing away my grief and replacing it with anger, as I head back inside. It's still just as quiet as when I came in to get Dax, only now I have my senses turned on, so I can actually hear talking coming from a couple of the screens, including Annie's.

I walk over to Mags and sit beside her in one swift motion. I can feel her eyes tracing my hardened expression for a moment, but neither of us is going to lay it all out on the line now. She's still angry with me about Annie, and I still refuse to be angry with her. But that's just me sugar-coating things, because really, we're even more divided than that. We've been divided ever since we tossed that sand dollar on reaping day and met our tributes an hour later. Because no matter how much we each support both of them, there can only be one victor, and she'll always root for Kasen while I'll always root for Annie.

As if she's thinking all the same things as me right now, Mags sighs without even trying to speak and then turns back to Kasen's screen. He and Annie are back on their hill and have crouched themselves over a wounded Ember as they try to re-examine the explosion in her stomach.

But Ember is a dying fire. The sight of her reminds me of how my mother looked on that hologram, because Ember can barely stay awake as she blinks incessantly and shivers like she's trembling. Right now, Kasen's doing all he can to keep her dry, but that's next to impossible in the swampy conditions. Annie's wrapping dressings around the still-swelling injury, but she can't stop the blood from spewing out of Ember's mouth.

Meanwhile, Leo's pacing around the pile of them with his fists curled and his jaw tightened, ready and waiting for an ambush by the two remaining careers. He doesn't seem to be willing to turn his back for a second, which I can't say I blame him for. Paranoia isn't always a bad thing. After all, paranoia is the only weapon that can beat wrath, because paranoia deals with the repercussions before they get there, whereas wrath never deals with them at all.

Back at the huddle, Ember's not getting much better as Annie and Kasen do all they can to make her comfortable before the sun sets completely. It's not until Ember's coughs are replaced with sobs that I notice the crying isn't just coming from within the arena. Turning around, I see Beetee covering his eyes with his hands from his place beside me, and his frustration only grows over the next few minutes until he's on his feet and walking toward the door.

Wiress stands up to try to stop him, asking, "Where are you going?"

"The control room," Beetee stops to answer her, but his reply makes me stand up too. The 'control room', otherwise known as the Gamemakers' Lair, is the most hidden room in the whole of the Capitol. It's the place where Seneca Crane and his team not only develop the arena before the Games begin, but also program it while the Games are running. Visitors are strictly forbidden from entering, even mentors, though there are rumors that it's hidden in plain sight, like somewhere deep inside the training center.

Thinking this, I ask Beetee, "How do you even know how to get there?"

He's back to walking now, and says with a turn of his shoulder, "Because Snow's asked me to join the Gamemakers for the past five years, that's how!" And then he's out of both my and Wiress's sight, banging the door on his way out.

I'm not all that surprised that Snow's requested for Beetee to work as a Gamemaker, since they tend to be picked from a crop of the most intelligent citizens in all of Panem, meaning that many are recruited straight from District 3. I also understand why Beetee thinks that finding them could somehow help Ember, because previous Games have often held 'feasts' when tributes are in need of medicine or supplies, drawing them out of hiding to enforce a fight. Beetee probably thinks he can somehow beg or convince them to host one for Ember's medicine, since he can't possibly be getting enough sponsor donations to send her some himself. The only thing I don't understand about Beetee's hastened plan is why, after being offered such control over the Games for five years, he never took the job.

But he's gone before I have the chance to ask him about it, and I don't really fancy striking such a conversation with Wiress at the moment, so I decide to return my focus to Annie. She's wrapping a bandage around her own wound – the cut on her leg, courtesy of Noor – as Kasen urges Ember to fall asleep. Her external injury isn't nearly as severe as Ember's internal one, but Annie could still use some stitching ointment. Still, I try to keep myself from sending it to her, because I need to start saving her donations for supplies that are part of our code.

Eventually, Annie gets her cut clean and dressed and Ember manages to drift off. The others decide to try to get some sleep as well, Annie and Kasen laying down beside Ember and holding each other for warmth because Ember's using all the blankets, and Leo sitting at the hill's peak to keep watch for the night.

At this point, all the other mentors have left for their own beds. It's been a long day in both the arena and the Capitol, but I can't leave now. Plus, I like the peace and quiet of staying with the tributes alone in the mentor room. It makes me feel like I'm there with Annie, back in the arena where I once had all the control, rather than here in the real world where I'm starting to feel like I have no control at all.

It takes a while for Annie and Kasen to actually fall asleep as today's events are surely replaying themselves in their minds. They talk a bit in the meantime, trying to stay distracted from everything that's going on around them, Kasen asking bluntly at one point, "What's going to happen next?"

His question is unanswerable to anyone, most of all Annie, but she and I both know that it wasn't rhetorical. That's why she answers in the only way she knows how. "We just hold on, I guess. At least, until..." she says without finishing, her voice fading off with her final thought.

"Until we get killed," Kasen finishes for her. He doesn't say it bitterly or fearfully, but rather assuredly, like it's bound to happen and he's already accepted it. And seeing that in him makes me understand that the same can't be said for Annie. She couldn't finish her thought aloud because she hasn't accepted it like Kasen has. She wants to hold on, she wants to survive, she wants to live.

Leo has that same determination. I glance at his screen from across the room and see that he's listening to his alliance from afar, and I can tell that he doesn't agree with Kasen. For both him and Annie, the thought of being killed makes them bitter and fearful, and I know from experience that that's a very good thing. As soon as a tribute believes that it's over, it will be. But if they never manage to convince themselves of that, then they'll never back down, and that's what makes a true victor... the refusing to break.

I fall asleep in the mentor room at the exact moment Annie does in the arena, and somehow we wake in unison as well. By that time, the mentors are back, with the exception of the runaway Beetee. Oddly enough, though, those mentors aren't in the kitchen making themselves breakfast. Instead, I find them all gathered around an excited Blight, staring at Maple Man's screen as if awaiting something important.

After checking Annie's screen to make sure that the rest of her alliance is still asleep and not in any immediate danger, I make my way over to the seventh couch in the circle and follow the mentors' eyes to Maple Man. The tall young boy is currently marching through the shallow waters of the arena, the axe from yesterday locked in his right hand and his eyes tired but hungry. At first, I'm not sure where in the arena he is, but when I hear Lyme and Enobaria laugh from my side, I realize where he's headed.

He comes up on the Cornucopia within the next minute or so, and he doesn't even try to hide himself. I'm already sympathetic for what he's about to do, because I understand how vengeful he must feel, but I also know that he's about to give up his one shot at winning the Games.

I think all of us mentors see it coming when Nickel and Noor take Maple Man down effortlessly only a matter of minutes after he walks straight into their camp. They must have heard him coming, since they somehow manage to plant an attack and approach him from behind. Maple Man, having had very little sleep and hardly any though given behind his suicidal plan, attempts to fight back but gets pinned to the ground by a hobbling Noor and stabbed in the back by Nickel. For some reason, though, I almost catch a smile on Maple Man's face as he crashes into the water right beside Horse-Nose's dead body. Maybe that was his plan, after all. Maybe all he wanted was to find her again.

Covering his face from the smell as he looks down at the two victims, Noor says to Nickel, "Maybe we should move camp. These ambushes are starting to get a little old."

Nickel grunts as if he agrees, but I can sense the pleasure in his tone. I know that he doesn't really mind being ambushed. Like me, he wants to be crept on. Unlike me, he only wants it to prove that no one can scare him no matter how hard they try. He doesn't understand that that's what makes surprises so exhilarating, because it's not the coming out of nowhere that's terrifying. What's terrifying is the thought that you might lose yourself in whatever appears. That's what's scary. That's what's exhilarating.

Still, Nickel goes along with Noor's suggestion, spending the morning packing up all the supplies they have left to get ready to travel. As soon as Blight's last remaining screen turns off, he shakes a couple of hands and then leaves, allowing the other mentors to dissipate back to their places or into the kitchen.

I check on Annie for a little while, but she and Kasen aren't going to be up to much any time soon. When Kasen and Leo wake up from the cannon fire following Maple Man's death, they and Annie gather around a groggy but still alive Ember and start organizing their thoughts. They make a tentative plan of how to handle things, deciding first to start a fire to help Ember gain back her warmth. This sends Leo back down the hill to chop some wood while Annie and Kasen stay with Ember to try to get her to eat something.

Watching Ember suffer right in front of them and me and knowing that there's nothing I can do about it starts to rub me the wrong way after a couple of hours. That's when I start pacing around the central part of the mentor room, passing by every screen so that I get a good overall view of the arena. Of course, there's not very much to keep track of, with only Nickel and Noor still by the Cornucopia and Annie's alliance up on the hill, but this also means that there are only six tributes left. This is the part of the Games that I'm not all that familiar with, because I've never mentored a tribute who's made it this far. Sure, _I_ may have made it past this point in my own Games, but I think I might just care more now than I did then. It seems ridiculous to say it, but all too quickly I know it's true: I want Annie to survive more than I ever wanted myself to.

But my watching turns out to be a good thing, because I just so happen to be peering toward the District 2 screen when Nickel and Noor finish their packing. Now, Noor's fashioning a cane for his leg, which I smile about because Annie was the one who broke it, and Nickel's sharpening one of his knives. Something about the way Nickel keeps glancing over at Noor makes me stop pacing and give the former my full attention.

I get close enough to Nickel's screen just in time to hear him ask Noor, "You think you'll be able to manage with that leg?"

Noor winces at the mention of his injury, so I know that he's in pain, but he tries to cover it up to his ally by responding with, "I can handle it."

But Nickel seems to have his own idea of what Noor can and can't handle, because just as Noor stands up to test out the cane, Nickel aims his knife and throws it straight into Noor's back. He waits for the cannon to fire before picking up his pack and Noor's and saying to the latest corpse, "It was a good idea to move on, but you would have just slowed me down."

There isn't an ounce of emotion in his voice, and I'm fairly certain that the only reason Nickel didn't kill Noor earlier this morning was because he knew Noor could help him pack first. But the boy was never Nickel's friend, never even his opponent. Noor, like the many who fell before him, was just a pawn in a game that, at the moment, Nickel seems to be the only one playing.

There isn't any huge reaction to Noor's death back in the mentor room. Even Wiress stopped rooting for her own tribute ages ago, in order to remain loyal to Ember, so she barely notices when one screen shuts off. In fact, I think the largest display of emotion here in the Capitol comes from Mags and me, because with Noor's death comes the realization that four is the only district remaining with _both_ of its tributes still alive. And though it's true that neither Annie nor Kasen has won yet, they've already come further than anyone ever expected them to, and they did it together. Mags and I are proud of them for that.

But I don't stay smiling for long. Now that Nickel's on the move and Noor's out of the picture, there's really only one place for Nickel to go if he doesn't want to hide, and something tells me that Nickel's not exactly the hiding type. So, I decide to continue stalking Nickel's screen, much to Enobaria's dismay. I don't pay her any mind, though. She might scare a lot of people, but she doesn't scare me.

Nickel, on the other hand, does scare me, if only because he could take away two out of the four people I truly care about in this world. So, as Mags continues to watch Annie and Kasen, I stay glued to Nickel, and it's a good thing I do. He doesn't ever get close to Annie's hill, which calms me slightly, but I almost panic when I realize that that doesn't mean he isn't close to Leo.

At this point, Leo's still off collecting wood, which is dragging him all across the arena because it's of course difficult for him to find anything dry enough for a fire. Unfortunately, his snapping of twigs catches Nickel's attention from wherever he is at the moment. Smiling to himself, Nickel takes the opportunity to sneak up on somebody else for a change, and I hold my breath as Nickel wraps his knife around Leo's neck and Leo drops his pile of wood in the water.

"How's that little firecracker of yours, huh?" Nickel asks in Leo's ear, no doubt referring to Ember. "Dead yet?"

Leo doesn't respond to the question, instead maintaining his focus on keeping still as he tries to slyly snatch a rock that he seems to have stashed in his pocket. But his silence confuses Nickel, and suddenly Nickel's got the rock in his own hand and is seething as he holds it up in front of Leo's face with, "Looking for _this_?"

Sighing and closing his eyes, Leo panders to Nickel's control and asks helplessly, "What do you want?"

"What does it look like?" Nickel threatens him, but Nickel's not giving Leo enough credit. It isn't that hard to see that Nickel's not just there to kill Leo, because if he were, he would have done it already. He has his own agenda, and all Leo wants to know is what the ultimatum might be.

Leo stays silent as he waits for Nickel to stop toying with him and get to the point. When Nickel's satisfied that Leo won't try to defend himself again, he relinquishes his hold on Leo's neck so that they can talk face-to-face. Brushing his fingers across the blood that's stained his knife as Leo touches his new scar, Nickel says, "It should be you and me in the end, don't you think?"

Trying not to laugh at Nickel's arrogance, Leo says again, "Just tell me what you want."

Ignoring him, Nickel continues, "Of course, that won't happen if you keep your little followers around any longer."

I can see where this is going now, and I'm instinctively getting ready to pull the sponsor money out of my back pocket.

Leo seems to understand as well, since he looks straight at Nickel's tattooed chest as he asks with a disgusted face, "You want me to kill them, don't you?"

"Glad you're on board," Nickel says with the same smile he wears just after he's killed someone. Sensing Leo's hesitance, he adds, "I'd kill them myself, but those runts aren't exactly worth my time. You, on the other hand, gave me quite the fight yesterday. I wouldn't mind seeing how the full version of it plays out."

That's not true. I'm sure that Leo did give Nickel a run for his money yesterday, but he's lying when he says that Annie, Kasen, and Ember aren't worth his time. He just doesn't know where they are, and more importantly, he doesn't want to be outnumbered again. That's his one weakness – feeling insignificant. He wants to have all the attention for himself during his final kill, because he wants his face to get as much as camera time as possible. The whole thing is despicable. _He_ is despicable. These Games are despicable.

Leo's thinking the same thing. I can tell, because he's not trying to hide it as he shakes his head and rubs his forehead. But he can think about how horrible it is all he wants and he'll still go through with it. I know he will, because I've been watching him through the entirety of the Games. I know that Leo never planned to be in an alliance or to care about the people in it. Everything he's done has been for his own survival and he's not about to give up that strategy. I know because I used to be just like him. I used to think that nothing else mattered but staying alive so that I could go home and see my mother again. That was before I learned that it didn't matter if I survived, because the Capitol would take away my reason for surviving anyway.

Growing impatient, Nickel walks forward until his face is inches away from Leo's so that he can ask in the most intimidating way possible, "Do we have a deal?"

Leo doesn't say anything, but extends his hand for Nickel to shake. And after one swing of their arms, Nickel's off running in the opposite direction, Leo's headed back to his camp, and I'm running to the donation machine.

I can hear Mags and Wiress whispering words of dread back and forth with each other, but I try not to think about what they might be feeling, or even what I might be feeling but have yet to admit. I only have so much time, and this is the most important thing I can do for Annie. I don't know yet what she'll do with Ember, but I know that she'll save herself. I could see it in her eyes last night. I know that she wants to come back to me.

I select a knife, our decided warning of imminent betrayal, and then run back to Mags's side in front of Annie's screen. She's exactly where she was before, sitting beside the weakening Ember with one hand in Ember's hand and the other brushing through her hair. Kasen's there too, crouched on Ember's other side in a fetal position, his head resting on his knees as he rocks himself back and forth. He seems uncomfortable, which I know only means that his emotions are currently rather high-strung, because that awkwardness is his way of showing them.

The parachute comes floating to their camp and lands a few feet away from Kasen, so when Annie sees it, she tells him to open it for her. Back in the mentor room, I can feel Mags's worry from across the couch as Kasen opens the box and finds a knife inside.

"Annie, what's this for?" he asks as he picks it up and examines the sharpness of its tip. They already have plenty of weapons, so I don't blame him for wondering why I'd send them a knife instead of something that might help Ember.

But Kasen barely finishes his question before Leo walks up from behind him with furrowed eyebrows and points to the knife as he asks, "Can I see that for a minute, Plugs?"

It only takes a second for Annie to put the pieces together, and just as I'm sitting down, she's standing up. Just as she lets go of Ember's hand, I clasp Mags's in mine. Just as Annie takes a deep breath and yells toward Kasen to run, I hold my own breath and stay completely still.

The last person Kasen looks to is Annie, since their eyes lock just after she calls out for him. As I witness their exchange, which only lasts a millisecond, I know that this will be one of the pictures that form my most poignant memories. All of the most meaningful ones are like that – just pictures instead of moving films. A picture is the only way to capture a single moment, and it's always the moments that are the most memorable. After all, it takes time to fall in love, but it only takes a moment to fall out of it. It takes time to put yourself back together, but it only takes a moment to fall apart. It takes time to learn how to live, but it only takes a moment to die.

I put my hand on Mags's cheek and turn her head into my shoulder just as the knife cuts through Kasen's neck. I make sure that she doesn't see his head fall to the ground before his body does or the blood that starts to pour across Ember's legs where he lands, but I see every second of it. I see it all, but what's worse is that Annie sees it too.

She's in shock as she looks up at Leo with amazement. She just stands there as he avoids making eye contact and grips the knife more firmly in his hand. She just stands there as he steps over Kasen's body and kneels above Ember's. She just stands there as he plunges the knife into a powerless Ember and then wipes his face to get rid of the backsplash of blood. She's in shock as Leo meets her eyes with amazement.

I'm still holding Mags, now more for myself than for her, when Leo starts walking toward Annie. His eyes have turned as empty as hers, glazed over and grief-stricken the fog after a storm, but he's not backing down. I try to prepare myself for what's about to happen as two cannons fire simultaneously, one for the spark and one for the plug. But it's those cannons that save Annie's life, because Leo freezes upon hearing them, closing his eyes and shaking because it's the first time he's letting himself feel aware of what he's done.

As soon as his eyes are closed, Annie starts backing away. Once they're open again, she's already running, sprinting down the hill as fast as she can until she's lost somewhere in the swamp, and even though I can hear Leo screaming after her, I know that he won't catch her. People don't creep up on Annie. _She_ creeps up on_ them_.

But as the sound of the hovercrafts invades the arena and makes Kasen and Ember disappear, Annie seems to disappear as well. The two screens on either side of hers fade to black while hers washes out, only the blurry view of some bushes at all visible, much like the sight of the ocean floor beneath translucent, green-tinted waters. It's as if the cameras have lost sight of her, like even the Gamemakers don't know where she's hiding, and that's when it happens. That's when I break.

I'm staring up at the screen and letting go of Mags because I need to stand up. Once I do, my hands are on each side of the television as if they can somehow summon Annie to reappear, but of course they don't. I'm not crying like I was last night, but I might as well be, because this is the one point during these Games that I've been completely disconnected from Annie, and I don't know what to do about it.

The screen is still foggy and there's no Annie in sight when I feel Mags's hand on my shoulder. I can hear sobbing, but I know it's not her when she whispers in my ear, "I'm sorry. I should never have been angry with you. I want you to be happy; I just didn't want him to have to die for it."

I nod because Mags needs to know that it's okay. She needs to know that she's not alone, because I'm here. To tell her this without actually saying it because I still can't quite seem to breathe, I reach my hand to my shoulder and squeeze the hand she's resting there. Then I bring her hand to my lips and kiss the back of it, her wrinkled skin reminding me not of my mother, but rather of Kasen.

Mags is seventy-five years old, and she's mentored for almost sixty of them. She doesn't have a single family member still alive, and I'm pretty sure that she's never fallen in love. Her focus has always been with her tributes, and every fold of her skin could be accounted for all the tributes she's lost – all the tributes who will never live to see seventy-five, and who will be the first in their families to die, but who will never fall in love. That's the one thing she's always had in common with them, but it's also what makes each and every death so incredibly tragic.

Her hand slips out of mine as she begins to walk away, and I don't try to stop her. She's been through all this before, even if Kasen's the different one, and so I know she needs to cope on her own for a while. She'll be in the suite for me to find her when I need to.

But once she's gone, I'm back to staring at Annie's empty screen, trying to ignore the profuse whimpering from a heartbroken Wiress just a few feet away. I'm practically shaking the television when I let myself look at Wiress, when just seeing her reminds me of Beetee and where he ran away to.

I'm almost out the door, on my way to search the entire city for the control room if I have to, when Beetee himself opens the door for me. "You're back," I say, but he walks right past me.

I turn around to see him go straight to Wiress and embrace her like they've just lost their daughter, because in a way, they have. They're clinging to one another like a wave clings to the shore – holding on as tight as they can, but knowing that they'll soon have to let go. And eventually, that's what they do, Beetee whispering something to Wiress that seems to tell her to leave, because soon she's following Beetee's previous path, walking straight past me and out into the hallway just like so many other mentors have.

I give Beetee a minute to himself before approaching him, and I wish that I could give him years because Ember's death is in so many ways on my hands, but I have to talk to him. I have to ask him something. He understands this, because he appears to be waiting for me as I step up and ask him, "Why didn't you become a Gamemaker? Why did you stay a mentor?"

"Because it teaches me something that a Gamemaker would never understand," he responds without a moment's hesitation. When I don't know what he's getting at, he adds, "It teaches me how fleeting love is... how fleeting _life_ is. But it teaches me that by introducing me to new love and new life every single year. Gamemakers may have all the control, but they take all that love away. Mentors do everything they can to keep it alive."

I'm looking straight through his glasses and into his big blue eyes, puppy dog eyes like Kasen's, as Beetee pats my shoulder and says, "This is your year, Finnick. This is your turn to keep the love alive. If you need me, I'll be in a bar somewhere, watching Haymitch drink himself to death and wishing alcohol had the same effect on me."

I manage to let out a tiny laugh as he leaves, because I can barely picture Beetee drinking, but mostly because I'm mesmerized by how wise he is. I think the same thing about Mags all the time, because she's constantly breaking and then putting herself back together again, and I don't know how she does it all on her own. I don't understand how people can live as long as they have, fifty or even seventy years, and still find reason in their pain. I don't understand how they deal with everything they've been through and are open to dealing with more. I don't understand what makes them so ready to live when their lives have been filled with so much death.

Once Beetee's gone, I refrain from looking for the control room because doing such didn't seem to help him any and I can't imagine that it could help me right now. But I also feel uncomfortable in this room where Annie no longer is, with only Enobaria and Chaff still here to watch the two other remaining tributes. I need to get out, leave and go anywhere – _everywhere_ – so eventually I walk away.

I find myself on the darkening streets of the Capitol's city center, walking past the crowds of late-night citizens who are staring at the giant screens on all the buildings. I don't follow their stares, though, because I don't want to watch the Games anymore, not if they will remind me of Kasen while simultaneously wondering where Annie went.

Instead, I keep my eyes on the rope that's in my hands, because somewhere along the way, I took it out of my pocket, and at some point during my walk, I happened to untie it. My fingers are running across the smooth rope when I stop and look down to find that Kasen's knot is gone.

I keep running my hand across the last bit of Kasen to disappear as I walk across the flattened roads in the opposite direction of a harsh wind. After an hour or so, I can't help but feel like I'm trying to swim upstream in a long, narrow river that's threatening to push me into a dead sea. It gets harder and harder to keep walking, though, harder to fight against the current. It's getting harder to mend my wounds, subdue the pain, learn to breathe again. It all happened so quickly, and I wish that I could go back. I wish that I could have known when the world was going to end. I wish that I could have known that the bad would only get worse. I wish I could have expected it.

But there is one answer that I don't need to wish for, because I already know it. I know the exact moment that I fell apart, but I also know that it has nothing to do with the amount of time it took for it to happen. What matters is that it wasn't the call from my mother or Kasen's death that did me in. It was Annie. It'll always be Annie, because she's the one. She's the only one who can break me, and so I know that she's the one who will put me back together again.

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><p><em><strong>Note: <strong>Thank you so much for reading. I'm so sorry for all of the sadness, but it had to be included at some point. Anyway, I've experienced death in my life fairly recently, so this chapter was very special to me. It would mean the world to hear any feedback you may have in a review._

_The next chapter will be a little lighter, but still relatively heavy, and will be uploaded on **July 8th**.  
><em>

_-Hailey  
><em>


	8. Honey, Let Me Sing You a Song

_**Note:** This chapter starts off a little slow, but the pace picks up toward the end, I promise. Hope you enjoy it!**  
><strong>_

_-Hailey_

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><p><strong>8 – Honey, Let Me Sing You a Song<strong>

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><p>'<em>Honey, let me sing you a song. And listen to my words as they come out wrong, but don't run away this time. Honey, let me look in your eyes. You can open them one at a time, but don't look away this time.'<em>

–"_Honey, Let Me Sing You a Song" (Matt Hires)_

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><p>"Get up," says a dry, husky voice from somewhere in the sky. I only just make out what it's saying, because it isn't all that loud or commanding, and my left ear seems to be blocked by something hard and hot.<p>

I roll over on the cement and try to hide myself from the rest of the world, but when a rounded, rock-like object jabs into my gut and a flying droplet of shiny spit starts seeping through my eyelids, I can't exactly ignore the wake-up call anymore.

"I said, _get up!"_ says the voice again, just as my eyes flutter open. Then there's a strong hand on my shoulder and the man to whom the voice belongs is dragging up off the ground as I slowly escape from sleep.

We're walking through the Capitol streets when my focus clears and I see the sun starting to shine through an overcast of clouds. The Capitol never gets nearly as much sun as District 4 always does, and when the light dares to invade, it's always weak and faded, but still somehow manages to entice the entire population out of their digitalized homes.

This thought makes me suddenly understand that I need to get out of here fast. I must have blacked out from sleep deprivation at some point last night, but soon the stampedes of people will flock around me if I don't get back to the training center.

Taking my arm back to myself, I notice that the person walking beside me is Haymitch, the mentor from District 12. I wonder why he appears to be more sober than I've ever seen him and ask, "How'd you find me?"

"You were passed out in the middle of the street," he mumbles in one prolonged groan. "Not exactly that hard to find."

I still feel slightly groggy and nothing he says makes any sense until he adds, "Plus, I woke up about two minutes before, only a couple blocks down." I laugh, because now it makes sense. He's just better at hiding this sort of thing than I am.

We manage to make it back to the center before any screaming fans come out from their caves, though I stop walking when my eyes catch onto the last three tribute billboards that illuminate the center's walls. There's one on each side of the main screen, which shows all the highlights of the arena in a live stream, as well as one on top. The billboards consist of the tribute's name, district, as well as picture, and then there's a running scoreboard beside their enlarged face that counts the number of bets they've received. The boards are also known to rotate in position based off their betting scores, and right now, Annie's on top.

Her face is just above the screen that I refuse to look at, and she seems so scared. I know that she's supposed to, because Dax and Starlin ordered her to appear fearful when the promotional photo was taken, but I don't like seeing her look like that anymore. I guess it's because when I look at her now, I feel everything that she feels, and I don't want any more fear. I don't need that. What I need now is hope.

Haymitch seems to notice my staring, since he tells me, "Leo was in the lead, but his numbers dropped overnight. These people might claim to like the action, but they sure don't like betrayal. I suppose no man does – even one so superior to the rest."

"Yeah," I agree. "Well, that's because even a superior man can be betrayed. It's the inferior one who has nothing to lose." My voice is steady as the words come out, without any hesitation or questioning. I guess that's what I see when I look at somebody as desperate and alone as Haymitch: a person who's inferior. The odd thing is how jealous that makes me feel.

Sensing my deep thoughts, Haymitch tries to push me toward the doors of the center as he turns around and says, "I'd better go. There's a round of shots waiting for me, and I wouldn't want to disappoint."

I don't say anything as he leaves, but a part of me wishes that I could follow him. Still, a bigger part of me knows that it's not over yet. This part of the Games always lasts the longest, because these are the tributes who want the victory the most. This is the part when their ferocity truly begins to show, and it's the mentors that carry all of the exhaustion for them.

At least, I feel as though I am. I don't blame Annie for it, but as I walk through the long hallway that leads to the mentor room, I just can't help but feel heavier than usual. There's this giant weight on my shoulders now, from my mother, from Kasen, and from Annie, and it's taking all the energy I have not to crumble beneath it. It's funny, too, because everyone here sees me as the light and care-free boy who makes them laugh, but right now, I really don't feel like laughing.

This emptiness inside of me only escalates when I enter the room to find it just as empty as I am, with the exception of an antsy Enobaria watching Nickel's screen with a hawk-like gaze. I glance at it momentarily, noticing that Nickel's woken up and is now traversing the arena in search of Annie or Leo. By now, he's surely realized that Leo left out a part of their deal by letting Annie get away. Nickel doesn't seem happy about it, which of course I expected, but somehow I doubt that _he_'ll be able to find Annie when even the Capitol can't.

Because sure enough, her screen is still foggy. No one outside of us mentors would even realize it, since viewers will just assume that nothing's going on with her and that the Gamemakers have decided to showcase Nickel and Leo instead, but because I am the only one who has access to Annie's very own cameras, I am the only one who has to suffer from wondering where she is.

Trying not to think about her, which is virtually impossible these days, I seek a distraction by turning around completely to face the screen from District 11. Chaff and Seeder aren't here to watch Leo, probably because they've left to recruit sponsors that they now need thanks to Leo's betrayal. So, it's just me looking on Leo as he walks through a part of the swamp that looks just like every other section.

But after a while, I notice that he's not just walking. His eyes don't leave the muddy ground waters for a second and he's constantly bending over and ruffling his hands through shrouds of fallen leaves and various splash marks on tree trunks. Noticing all of this, I realize that Leo is actually tracking Nickel. I'm not used to seeing tributes that are able to track others like that, mostly because only kids from the outlying districts are any good at it, and they hardly ever make it this far in the Games. After all, just being able to follow somebody doesn't mean that you'll ever catch up to them.

For Annie's sake, though, I hope that Leo does catch up with Nickel. I don't want Annie to have to fight either of them, but I can't say that I'd mind to see them fight each other. After what they've each done, they both have it coming. And it seems like Leo's doing pretty well for himself, though it's not easy to tell if he's gaining any ground. I can only hope that he knows what he's doing, which he seems to, as he comes across one of the spider streams and suddenly gets excited.

He leaves Nickel's trail in order to follow the stream until he finds the leftover parts of one of the spider muttations that must have run out of fuel upon reaching the arena's border. Kneeling down next to it, Leo gets up close and personal with the spider's face and ends up pulling off its palp – the fang-like part of the mutt that must be used in sucking the tributes' blood. I'm not all that versed in how it works, especially since I'm sure it's been manufactured by the Capitol and therefore bears little resemblance to the organ of an actual spider, but Leo appears to be pretty enthusiastic about it anyhow.

Stashing it in his pocket, he smiles and starts running back to where he left Nickel's trail, picking it up again quickly and looking more determined than ever to set his sights on the tattooed tribute. I'm still watching him, just waiting and wishing that he's not as far from Nickel as I think he is, when Dax comes in.

"Sponsor money?" I ask as I tilt my head toward my shoulder to see him standing beside me.

He nods and hands me the envelope, but he doesn't leave afterward like he normally does. Instead, he stays here and breathes next to me, and I can smell the cologne fuming from his pores. But the second I actually start to notice, it's as if he can tell how much it irritates me, because he suddenly says, "You need to get out of here. Come on and take a walk with me. Anyway, I have something to show you."

I have no idea what he's talking about, but decide to follow him anyway. Once we get into the hallway, he starts talking again, this time in a serious tone that contrasts his usually casual voice.

"You know, I remember when your Games came down to the final three," he tells me, making me listen because he hardly ever talks about previous Games. I think that's his coping mechanism – the silence. Mags accepts, Dax denies, and I pretend. We're a misfit trio, but the things that all of us can agree on are the memories that we share. Every year, every arena, and every tribute means something different to each of us, like a feeling that they leave in our hearts, but our eyes always see the same things.

Waiting for Dax to say more, I walk slowly until he adds, "Everyone always gets really quiet when there are only three tributes remaining. It's something about all the deaths that are still fresh in their minds, and the fact that it isn't yet two, so it isn't yet the end, that just seems to shut them all up."

He's right, because I can feel the silence just walking through the center and for once not having eyes staring back at me from all angles. Still, I'm not sure why this silence is so important, so just as we're stepping into an elevator, I ask, "Why are you saying this to me now?"

Dax takes a deep breath, stretching his powder blue suit ever so slightly, before he answers, "Because I don't want you to mistake this silence for finality, Finnick. You've been through a lot lately, and it's okay to take a rest. It's okay to leave that room behind for a while. Annie's not going anywhere."

Now, I understand what he's getting at. I've been so stubborn about missing something that I've barely spent any time outside the viewing room, but what Dax doesn't know is that that was never the problem. I was fine being exhausted when I had Annie to watch every night. It was when she disappeared that I felt like I started to follow her into the dark.

But I refrain from telling Dax this, because I really do appreciate his gesture of trying to wake me up. And he doesn't need to hear that he's not the one who can carry me. I think he already knows that.

Soon, we arrive at the familiar fourth floor suite, and I remember that Dax said he had something to show me. I don't know what he could possibly be hiding here, but when I see the frail figure of a tiny old lady sitting on the couch in the living room, I know that Dax did the right thing bringing me to see Mags. This way, she and I can be exhausted together.

Dax leaves as I sit down beside her, the whole time looking at her swollen eyes and sunken cheeks. But she doesn't look back at me. Her eyes are locked on the television that's in front of her, and I manage to peel mine away from hers to see what she's so fascinated by.

The screen is not currently showing coverage of the Hunger Games, but is instead on some news channel that seems to be stationed in District 4. The camera looks like it's parked at the edge of the pier, pointed down at the rocky beach that sits beside the marina. This beach isn't usually a popular swimming spot, since it's the only beach in the district that has little to no sand, but the camera isn't showing many swimmers anyway. It's only showing one.

There's a small rowboat stationed at the shore that's been decorated in bouquets of flowers and baskets of beautifully patterned ropes. A single man is steering it into the water as the majority of the district's people stand huddled from the wind just a few yards up the beach. They're all centered around a single woman, and upon seeing the man's face and then hers, I finally recognize them.

I can't describe how sad Kasen's mother looks, except that it's so sad that I almost can't tell if she's crying, because it looks normal on her. It's like she's been crying for years, and like she'll never stop, and so it's the type of sadness that loses its meaning after a while. But the father's sadness still has meaning, because he's still trying to be strong for his son as he pushes the boat – the one that should hold Kasen's body, but that I know is actually empty because the Capitol owns his body now – and releases it into the sea.

The man stands waist-deep in the water as he watches the boat float away, and the camera is still on him until it shifts its focus onto the pier that it's sitting on, where a person I don't recognize is standing atop the roof of the Justice Building with a bow in one hand and a flaming arrow in the other. Before long, he's put the two together and is shooting the arrow toward the water, where it lands straight in Kasen's boat and turns the colorful plug into an island of sparks. That's how I know that the memorial isn't just for Kasen. It's water and fire, so it's for Ember too. It's for all the bodies that will never come home – all the bodies that the Capitol will burn. And it's for the one that will come home, no matter whose it is. It's for the very last flame in a sea of water.

With one last look at the burning boat, I close my eyes and let the tears flow out of them. Soon, my head is in my hands and my body is curling into my knees and I can't breathe. I feel like I'm strangling my own neck, choking on my own water, drowning in my own sea. I feel exhausted and I feel heavy and I feel like I'm disappearing, and I finally know why.

"It's my fault," I manage to say, if only in a whimper. Mags isn't touching me or making any noise, but I know that she's still there. She wouldn't leave me, because she's the only person I've never left.

When the television turns off, I'm reassured that Mags is listening, so I tell her, "He's dead because of me." I think this weight I'm carrying is about more than just Kasen, but I do know that a large part of it must be guilt. After all, _I_ sent Annie the knife that killed him. I was trying to protect her – to protect _all _of them – but it doesn't matter. His death is on _my _hands.

But just as soon as she hears me, Mags has her hands on my arms and is trying to get me to open my eyes and look at her as she says, "_NO!_ No, Finn, it was _not_ your fault. He is _not_ dead because of you. You do _not_ get to feel like you killed an innocent boy. Do you hear me?"

I try to nod, because I do hear her, but I'm not sure yet if I believe her. She's told me all of this before, when I came back from my own arena five years ago. She told me that the people I caught in my net and speared with my trident would have died anyway, even if I hadn't been the one to do it, and I believed her then. But now, I know better.

I know how terrible this place is, but I also know that I can't keep blaming the Capitol for all of my mistakes. Snow may not be helping the situation, but he didn't _make_ my mother sick. He couldn't have, because there's no such thing as mercury poisoning anywhere outside of District 4. And he didn't _know_ that I'd fall in love with a girl that was reaped for the Games. He couldn't have, because even I didn't expect to fall for Annie. And Snow didn't tell me to make that code with her or to send her that knife. I did that all on my own.

That's why I have a difficult time listening to her when Mags places her forehead against mine and says, "Nickel would have found another way to kill him, and Leo would have found one of the twenty other weapons they had lying around that camp. You are _not_ to blame for providing the one that happened to spill Kasen's blood, and you are _not_ to blame for staying here instead of going home to your mother, and you are _not_ to blame for falling in love."

I don't know why, but her words make me cry harder. I'm basically blubbering now, and I'd be embarrassed if anybody but Mags was holding me, because I trust every part of her with every part of myself. And it's that trust that makes the words I didn't even know I had come pouring out of my mouth like a waterfall.

"I can't let her die," I say, "I can't just sit here and wait for her cannon to blow. I can't win these Games for her, but I _need_ her to win, Mags."

I finally have my eyes open and I'm looking at all of those wrinkles on Mags's skin and thinking again about how she can get past all of the years' worth of death, and then I'm saying in between giant heartbeats, "I miss her. I miss her more than anything I've ever missed before, and I hate it. I hate that feeling because it's addictive, and because I feel like a rope has been tied around my waist and is anchoring me to her – to wherever she is – but the line just gets longer and longer, and the waves are crashing on top of me and there's sand in my eyes, and now there's blood in my mouth and it's choking me, but I can't get away from it. I can't get enough sand out of my eyes to see her, and I can't get the blood out of my throat to talk to her, and that's all I want, because I miss her. I miss her so much."

The more frazzled I become, the calmer Mags is. She pulls me closer to her until I can feel her own heartbeat, and it's as steady as the tides, so of course it's the only thing that can soothe me. And while I keep repeating the same thing – that I miss Annie, and that I need her to come back – Mags says to me over and over again, "Then bring her back, Finn. Help her wake up. Help her fight. Carry her home."

Our words overlap each other for what feels like hours, and when I'm composed enough to sit up on my own, I see darkness through the suite's windows and realize that it's been even longer than I thought. A whole day has gone by with me feeling lost and with Mags somehow feeling all right, and it makes me wonder how Annie's felt through all of it.

I'm thinking about her, trying to picture her perfect skin curled into the mud and bushes somewhere, when Mags says, "I can't tell you what to do next, Finn, and I really have no idea why she's disappeared or how you can bring her back. I don't know how to help her, but I think I can help _you_."

Then she takes a thin envelope from the coffee table in front of us and places it in the palm of my hand. I open it up right away and see a single, well-used paper upon which appears to be a handwritten poem, though I'm fairly certain that the perfectly fluid writing doesn't belong to the jittery and jagged Mags.

"They're song lyrics," Mags tells me. "My mother gave me this copy before I left for my own Games. I used to sing this whenever I felt lonely in the arena, and then over the years whenever I have a tribute that seems just as alone as I once was. I sang it a lot to you, through the screens."

"You did?" I ask, because of course I never heard her. I wish I had, though, because I think that her voice would have helped me in that arena. I think that it might have felt like hearing the song of an angel in a kingdom of hell.

"Of course I did," she says with the straightest face and unblinking eyes. Then she adds just as sincerely, "But I think you need those words more than I do right now. So, sing them to her, or just say them. Who knows? Maybe she'll even hear you."

I'm speechless as Mags pulls out yet another token, this time from her pocket. She places this one in my other hand, and it's smaller than the page of lyrics. It feels like smooth glass against my skin, and I look down at my palm to see a perfectly rounded miniature heart. It's just like Annie's, but instead of being purple, it's a bluely-tinted green.

"I've had that for a while, too," Mags says, "And as much as I'd like to hold onto it forever, I think your heart belongs to someone else now. That's why I want you to give this to her... to Annie. And it's also why you should go. You'll want to be there when the cameras find her again."

I nod, because I know that she's right. She's always right. But it doesn't change the fact that I'm still scared of what's to come, so I can't help but ask, "Will you come with me?"

"No, Finn," she states simply. "I can't go back there just yet."

I tell myself to be okay with this, because she needs me to be. I wish so much that I could have her by my side through the end, but I sealed my fate at the coin toss. That's when I went all in for Annie, and so it has to be just us now. It was always meant to be just us.

So, I leave Mags to herself, holding the song lyrics in one hand and my very own heart in the other as I walk back to the viewing room. By this time, Enobaria has left for her own suite while Nickel and Leo have made separate camps somewhere in the arena, so it's just me and Annie's foggy screen. Still, I'm not willing to leave her anymore, so I lie down on the couch that I used to share with Mags and try to fall asleep. It comes easier than I expected it to, and soon the lights are back on and everything has turned to chaos.

I jump up in one swift motion upon hearing screaming from a few monitors down. With my eyes wide open but blinded by the light, I'm standing before I can actually see and I know all too soon that the scream came from Enobaria, because I can hear her pounding fists grabbing her television so hard that it's practically peeling off the wall. Sure enough, I can see her golden teeth shining through her clenched jaw once everything's clear again, which is around the same time that I notice that Nickel's not the only one on the District 2 screen.

Turning around rather frantically, I see that Chaff has also returned since yesterday (though Seeder is still nowhere to be found), and he too his standing directly in front of Leo's screen with penetrating focus. For a minute, I look between the two mentors, neither of whom I've ever been particularly fond of, and then I find myself walking to Chaff's side, as if declaring my allegiance to Leo.

It's not so much that I want Leo to survive after what he did to Kasen and Ember. It's just that I'd rather see him duke it out with Annie than Nickel. And though my reasoning for that is partly due to fear of Nickel's violence, I think it has more to do with Annie's retribution. After what he did and how it has surely affected her, she'll want to beat Leo so much more than she would Nickel.

But of course, I don't let Chaff in on any of this as I stand slightly behind him to get my own personal view of the imminent brawl. We're both completely silent as we watch a crouching Leo spy on Nickel from his seat on a rock, where the latter's currently sharpening one of his knives with the same amount of fury in his eyes that I saw in them yesterday.

Leo seems to know that there's really no way for him to sneak up on Nickel, and that if he does, it will only make the killer even angrier. At least, I assume that's what the dark boy is thinking, because after hardly any time at all, he's sighing and hopelessly making his way through the bushes as if he's about to surrender himself to the enemy.

He keeps this impression all the way up until Nickel sees him standing there, but Nickel isn't so courteous to approach Leo like a gentleman. Instead, he flings himself onto Leo until he's got the boy's back up against the nearest tree, his razor sharp knife retracing the scar he already left in Leo's neck. Seething, he asks Leo, "Come to beg for forgiveness, have you? Because I only saw _two_ faces in the sky, and in case you can't quite remember, the deal asked for _three_!"

I can see Leo's frustration through the screen as the veins on his neck start to swell with blood and his black eyes dilate with anger, but he's doing a good job of holding it back from Nickel. He doesn't say a word in retaliation as his fists ball into the same rocks that he's no doubt hauled time and time again in the agriculture district, and his silence catches Nickel off guard.

Wondering why Leo won't fight back, Nickel's curiosity gets the best of him as he loosens his hold of Leo and is about to threaten him, but Leo takes the opportunity to punch him in the groin before knocking him to the ground. Now, Leo has his own knife out – the knife I sent Annie – but Nickel's quick to grab Leo's wrist and hold it back, just as Leo does with him.

They each have about the same amount of strength, so it takes a skilled move for Nickel to roll Leo over and gain back his control, pulling him on one side and pushing him from the other before Leo can counteract the motion. But when Nickel tries and succeeds in biting off a piece of Leo's shoulder, Leo spits straight into his face and points his knife toward Nickel's right eye.

Though Nickel tries with all his might to push the knife away, Leo forces it onto Nickel's eyelid, cutting through the skin in a shaky line and just barely missing Nickel's cornea. As Nickel screams from the pain and releases his hand from Leo's shoulder in order to apply pressure to his wound, he ceases all control he may have had over to his adversary.

Leo can tell just as well as I can that he's going to win this duel of demons, but his smile fades quickly, because it's not over yet. While Nickel writhes and splashes in the mud, Leo wraps a rope around his arm and starts dragging him toward the tree he was pinned against before. As Leo picks up a kicking Nickel and starts wrapping the rope around the trunk and then fastening it to Nickel's other arm, I realize that it's one of Kasen's old inventions – the leash he made to help the alliance travel.

Once Leo's sure that the rope is tight enough to keep Nickel secured to the tree, he turns around to face him and finally decides to speak. With his muscles still throbbing and his anger still boiling, he holds Nickel close by his bare skin and points a finger at his bleeding face as he screams, "_YOU_ DID THIS TO ME!"

Nickel can't seem to reply due to the buckets of blood that keep draining out of his eyes and into his mouth, which I think was all part of Leo's plan, because he seems adamant about getting Nickel to listen rather than talk back as he continues, "_You _turned me into a killer! You made me tear myself apart because you knew that I would do anything to be back with my family, and what for? Just to give you a more _dramatic_ win? Why should you even get to win? What family could somebody like you _possibly_ have to go back to? Huh?"

By now, Nickel's gotten used to the blood and Leo gives him time to cough some of it up before responding. Eventually, Nickel does manage to reply, saying sourly, "You're right, Eleven. I _don't_ have a family. I don't have _anything_. But at least that means that I have nothing to lose. But you? I bet that you've already lost everything worth living for. Or do you really think your family's going to take back _you_, the tribute that murdered the _retard kid_ and his _sick girlfriend_? You really think anybody will forgive you for that?"

The grovelling is Nickel's only chance at surviving. He thinks that by tearing Leo down, he'll be able to build himself back up, but he doesn't understand that that's not how things work. He doesn't understand that when you tear a person down, they usually drag you down with them.

Leo, on the other hand, understands this well, since just as soon as Nickel's finished his speech, Leo's punching him in the opposite eye from which he's currently bleeding. Afterward, as he watches Nickel spit out a piece of broken tooth that reminds me of Enobaria, Leo whispers cruelly, "_That_ was for Kasen."

Nickel stares him straight in the face as he awaits the next punch, after which Leo says, "_That_ was for Ember."

His last and final hit is one straight in the gut, an underhand throw that goes into Nickel's stomach and points upward to crack his ribs. "And _that_," Leo says just as he's pulling his hand away, "_That _is for Annie."

I smile then, because just hearing her name lets me know that even though I haven't seen her lately, she's still out there. She isn't gone. This isn't the end. And I smile even more when Leo pulls the spider palp from his back pocket.

Staring down at the needle that's bound to be even sharper than Nickel's knife, Leo says slowly and confidently as Nickel struggles to remain conscious, "And as for me, I've decided to embrace the killer you've requested I become. I'm going to make your death as _painful_ as it can possibly be."

He has Nickel's full attention now, so Leo holds up the palp right in front of Nickel's good eye and asks, "See this? This is a specialty item straight from the weapon district itself. But just in case you don't recognize it, I'll help clue you in. See, I've watched two people die from this little contraption, so I know _exactly_ how it works. When the spider's around, it's quick, but without a tongue to suck all the blood back, this thing will just act like a normal old pump: slowly churning away at your insides as it_ seeps_ the blood out of your body and lets it _pour_ into the water that's been infested with _your_ mud. It might take a couple of hours, but knowing how much willpower you seem to have to survive, it might just take _all night._"

Nickel doesn't have the energy left to argue any further, and Kasen's rope is proving to be just as strong as he always claimed it to be, so Leo's able to stick the palp into the center of Nickel's abdomen without any interference. It sits right below his rib cage, and sure enough, the blood starts dripping out its open end within seconds.

Leo doesn't wait for Nickel's last breath, nor does he say another word, before he sets off on his own. He doesn't seem all that satisfied with his victory, but of course that's the guilt talking. I know better than anyone that it doesn't matter how much hurt the victim has done, because it'll always feel wrong to take away a human life.

But knowing that I had nothing to do with this death, I can't help but rejoice silently to myself from within the mentor room. Chaff does the same, only stopping momentarily to shake my hand before running out of the room, no doubt headed off to find Seeder so that they can celebrate. Enobaria, however, is not so pleased, and actually does manage to rip Nickel's screen off the wall before it even fades to black, stomping out of the room shortly afterward with her teeth grinding so much that I swear I see flakes of gold dust flying off of them.

And then I'm alone again, sitting back on the District 4 couch and wishing that I could see Annie, because that's the only way that any of this might actually feel real. I stay here for a few hours, wondering what I can do while simultaneously glancing toward Leo's screen to find that he's made his way back to the alliance's hill and is sitting in their old camp in remembrance, but I don't come up with any ideas until Nickel's death cannon fires in the arena at the exact moment that Dax walks into the mentor room.

When he hands me yet another pile of sponsor donations, I suddenly realize that that's the answer. I must have been too scared off by what happened with the knife to even consider sending her something else, but upon thinking of it, I'm sure that a parachute would find her. They're directly linked to the tracking devices in the tributes' arms, and all sponsor gifts sent are required to be shown in the highlights, so whether she's actually lost or the Gamemakers are just toying with people, they'll have no choice but to bring her back.

I have to reassure Dax that I'm feeling better than I was yesterday just to make him leave, but as soon as he's gone, I rush over to the donation machine. This time, I use one of its more special features, depositing my own gift instead of selecting one from the database. I send her the heart Mags gave me – _my_ heart – and even though I know it's not part of our code, I hope that she won't need a translation to understand that it means 'I love you'.

I run back to that foggy screen as quickly as I can, but nothing's there. It's still all misty and convoluted, and I close my eyes in dismay, because I really thought that it work. But as I tell myself not to cry again, I hear rustling from the television's speakers, and it's too close by to belong to Leo. And as I open my eyes, all of the sudden the cameras are starting to refocus, just like eyes adjusting to the sun, and there she is.

Annie is surrounded by bushes as the parachute flows straight into her lap, but she hardly notices it with her eyes shut so tightly and her ears blocked by her hands. She's shaking too, her whole head flinching as if she's caught in a nightmare that she can't physically escape from, and I know that it's the memories. They're bombarding her, swirling around her every thought and invading her mind even as she tries not to listen to their subtle whispers.

I let the tears fall because I can't stop them anymore, and because just seeing Annie like this tells me that she's been this way this entire time. Ever since Kasen's death, she's been hiding here, more alone, fearful, and exhausted than even I've been. And it kills me to know that I can't reach into this very screen and hold her and make her nightmares go away, because she needs me now more than she ever has before.

"Come on, Annie," I whisper at her, because I need her to open her eyes. I need to see her and I need her to see me.

But while we might be tethered to each other, we don't seem to hear each other's thoughts from this far away, which makes me think of Mags and the song she used to sing to me when I was in the arena. I hadn't been listening then, but surely Annie is searching longingly for anything that doesn't sound like those whispers she's hearing now. That's what makes me open up the page of lyrics to Mags's song and face the screen as I try to sing through my tears:

"_Across the water, with our sons and daughters_

_A land of death, buried by the slaughter_

_Stay on the shores, and don't venture far_

_And when the moon leaves the tides, you'll be in my arms._

_I am strong, I am yours_

_I am everything you can't ignore_

_I can save you from drowning in your very own sea_

_I am the part of you that is free._

_Across the water, beneath a wave of stars_

_A lurid graveyard, not far from where you are_

_Escape the night, and show me your eyes_

_And when we leave, love will be our disguise._

_I am strong, I am yours_

_I am everything you can't ignore_

_I can save you from drowning in your very own sea_

_I am the part of you that is free."_

Nothing happens as I start singing, but when I get to the chorus, I notice that Annie stops shaking so much. Her obvious twitches subside into minor shivers, as if my voice is somehow calming her. Then I get to the second verse, and that's when she slowly pulls her hands off her ears. That's when I know that somehow, even if it's not technically possible, she can hear me. And when I finally return to the chorus, she opens her eyes, and they're looking straight at the camera – straight at _me_ – and dilating just as they always used to when she'd stare at me.

I'm smiling when I finish the song, see her looking at me, and say, "That's it, Annie." I can't take my eyes off of her now, because even with her unwashed, frizzy hair and eyes crazed from hunger, she's beautiful. She'll always be beautiful. And seeing that beauty is all the hope I need to keep carrying this weight a little longer, because though it might not be over yet, it will be soon. The end's almost here, and I know that she can do this. _We_ can do this.

And as I start to believe myself, I urge her to believe me through the screen that can only keep us apart for so long, "Keep trying, Annie. Keep swimming. Keep fighting. Just wake up for me, Annie. Get up, and I'll carry you. I'll carry you across the water. I'll carry you home."

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><p><em><strong>Note:<strong> Thanks for reading! I hope Nickel's death was satisfying for those of you who wanted something gruesome, but also not too gory for those of you who aren't real fans of the violence. (I tried to maintain a happy medium.) Also, the song is meant to parallel 'Deep in the Meadow' from THG (I used the same rhyming pattern as a sort of template), so I hope it lived up to that!_

_The next chapter will be uploaded on **July 20th**, and it will follow Annie's final few days in the arena (eek!). But until then, please do leave a review on this chapter! I honestly appreciate them more than words can say.  
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_-Hailey  
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	9. You In the End

**_Note:_**_ Regardless of what the title of this chapter may be, this is _not_ actually the end! These are Annie's last days in the arena, but the story will continue (for two more chapters); just wanted to reassure you of that. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one!**  
><strong>_

_-Hailey_

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><p><strong>9 – You In the End<strong>

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><p>'<em>All I am is just a traveler with dirt on my hands. All I have is dust in my pockets, and you in the end.'<em>

–"_You In the End" (Matt Hires)_

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><p>The idea comes to me instantly. Maybe the light in my head turned on when I noticed the water Annie was sitting in start to rise. Maybe it was when I told her to keep swimming. Maybe it was the song I sang to her, or the promise to carry her across the water. I'm not sure what triggered the thought, but once it's there, it's all I can think about, because I know that it will work. This is my chance to end this, to stop this journey I've been on so that I can finally reach my destination... so that I can finally <em>be<em> with my destination.

Just as the arena's flooding slightly for the sixth time, as tomorrow will mark the end of one week of the 70th annual Hunger Games, Annie averts her eyes from the hidden camera so that she can close them once again and return to her shivering. From where she's sitting in the bushes, the watery mud now reaches up to the knees that are pressed against her chest. She'd be better off walking through the water to look for some dry land, but I can tell that she's not going to move. She's going to stay right where she is until she dies, and that's what makes me realize that she really does need to be carried away. And if I can't invade that arena and carry her myself, why not let the water do it for me?

For the next minute or so, I struggle to convince myself to turn away from Annie so soon after finding her again. When I realize that this might be my only chance, though, and that I'm doing it for her and for us, I whisper into the screen, "I love you." And when she stills momentarily and squeezes her hand around my sea glass heart, I squeeze mine around hers and turn around to walk away.

Just as I'm leaving the mentor room, Chaff comes rolling in with Seeder tied to his hip. They look about ten times happier than their tribute does at the moment, but I can't say that I blame them. If I were in their position right now, I would think that I'd already won, too. The problem is that they forget that though Annie may be not be a threat, she isn't alone. She has me, and I can be threatening enough for both of us.

I almost shoot a glaring look at Chaff to tell him all of this, but I stop myself, because it isn't worth it. Plus, I'd rather see the look of shock on his face when Annie wins than the look of doubt at my confidence now, because it'll be a hell of a lot more fun that way.

I try to continue thinking this way, certain that Annie will win and that everything will be okay, as I leave the training center and step into the midday streets of the Capitol. There are fans and cameras pushing against me in seconds, because it's of course the first time I've actually been outside in broad daylight since the Games started. It's easy to forget about the fact that the things I see on Annie's screen in the viewing room are also being broadcast all across Panem when I'm alone and singing to her, but outside it's painfully obvious.

There are microphones in my face as soon as I'm only a few yards away from the door of the center, with Capitol journalists asking all sorts of questions regarding how I feel about Annie's chances now that Nickel's out of the running, or if I ever expected one of my tributes to make it this far, or what I'd like to say to the people watching in District 4.

Reminding myself to pretend, I ignore all the questions but for the last one, answering the most popular news channel with a wink to the surrounding girls begging for my autograph, "The only thing I'd say to everybody back home is to just hold on a little while longer. I know how much you all miss me, but I'll be back soon." It's exactly what the Capitol wants to hear from the boy with the trident, and it also makes it seem like I couldn't care less about Kasen or Annie. I just hope that the tributes' families aren't watching, or that they won't believe me if they are.

I actually give out a few signatures as I walk down the street, just to make the followers happy. I like to believe that doing so will give them a reason to return the favor one day by providing me with some peace and quiet, even though I know that it won't. Human beings are selfish that way, especially ones that are never told not to be.

Eventually, though, I get the paparazzi off my back as I open the door to the most deserted bar in the downtown area. Since they're not allowed to follow me inside, everything turns dark and quiet as soon as the door closes behind me. Upon first sight of the place, which looks remarkably similar to the funeral home I used to run off to for a few consecutive years after my father died, I wonder if I have the right place. But when I walk further into the depths of the one room toward a couch in the far-off corner, I see the exact two heads that I'm looking for.

I suppose Beetee meant what he said when he told me that he'd be off watching Haymitch drink, and I could really only imagine Haymitch wanting to spend his time in a bar where he could be alone without being disturbed. So, here I am, about to approach the two mentors who have no reason to help me, but whom I hope will decide to anyway.

Beetee is the first to notice me, since of course, he's completely sober. "Finnick," he says, at first with his normal cheerful tone, but turning almost sad at the end. When he thinks through the only reasons I might be here, he adds with the same sadness, "Oh, no. Annie?"

"No," I reply quickly, realizing that there are no television sets in here, so Beetee could have easily missed an important part of the Games, but reassuring him that he didn't. "She's fine. Well, not fine, but alive."

"Well, that sounds like a cause for celebration!" says a very drunk Haymitch as he lifts a shot toward me before swallowing it whole.

"Sure," I say, trying to ignore him as I take a seat next to Beetee. After all, it's the latter I came here to talk to, not Haymitch.

Beetee seems to catch on, since he asks me, "Well, if Annie's all right, what are you doing here? Do you need something?"

I'm glad that he remembers our last conversation, in which he told me to come find him if I needed him, because that means that he meant what he said. And when I look past his glasses and into his tired eyes that seem just as kind as they always have, even when I was busy convincing myself that they were lying, I know that he'll help me. He'll do it for Ember, but I think he'd do it anyway. That's just the kind of man he is – the kind that was told as a boy to be unselfish and actually listened.

It takes me a minute to swallow the ounce of pride that I have left before I can say to Beetee, "Yes, actually. I think I do need something."

This also seems to catch Haymitch's attention, since he leans forward with his elbows against the table as if he's suddenly interested in the Games, even though he's never been before. Still, I worry about him overhearing my plans, since he's been friends with Chaff since before I became a mentor. If he's going to support one of the two remaining tributes, it's going to be Leo.

So, I try to keep my words cryptic as I elaborate with, "Annie's alive, but she's not going to fight anymore, at least not with Leo. She seems adamant to stay right where she is until the Games end, whether in her favor or not, but I think I know a way to get her to move."

"I'm listening," Beetee says when I take a pause. But I'm looking to Haymitch to try to let him know that this is none of his business. When he doesn't back down, Beetee tries to gain my attention by mumbling about Haymitch, "Just leave him be. He's too inebriated to even consider planning a sabotage."

I laugh slightly, and though I'm not completely convinced, I let Beetee think I am by turning back to the topic at hand and stating, "I want to flood the arena, and I mean _completely_. But in order to do it, I need to get into the control room."

The spider muttation has been gradually flooding the arena since the Games started, but there isn't so much water in the swamp that the tributes have to start swimming instead of wading through the mud. Plus, the hill that the alliance used to share makes for a secure position for Leo. Still, all that water must be coming from somewhere, and if its source were to be released, surely the entire arena would turn into one giant lake. And though Annie might not want to fight anymore, I have a feeling that the one thing she _will_ be willing to do right now is swim.

Unfortunately, Beetee isn't taking the idea all that seriously, since he seems preoccupied by the second part of my plan as he says with his eyes even wider than usual, "The _control room_? Finnick, I already tried to seek out the Gamemakers, but it's futile! You don't even know where they are!"

"But _you _do!" I fire back. This is why I've come to seek _him _out. After all, Beetee may not have convinced the Gamemakers to do anything to help Ember or stop Nickel, but that doesn't mean that he didn't find them.

I know that I'm right when he doesn't refute me straight away. But I also know that he doesn't approve when he sighs and says, "This is not a good idea. You'll only be giving Snow a reason to toy with you even more than he already has."

Haymitch grunts at that, because he understands the means of the Capitol. We all do. And they can think all they want that I'm not as versed in the blackmail just because I'm years younger than they are, but I don't care. I'm done caring about what Snow might do to me or what he's already done to my mother. I'm done letting him take things from me, starting with Annie.

So, when Beetee tries to tell me that there are other ways for Annie to win without me risking my life by setting foot in the control room, I bang my fist against the table and practically scream at him, "_No!_ No, there is no _other way_. This is the end of the line, and within a couple of days, these Games are going to name a victor, and it _has _to be _her_. She is _all _that I have, and she _needs_ me right now. If this even has a _chance_ of working to bring her back to me, then I don't care if it's not a 'good idea', because it can't possibly be worse than the idea of her dying out there. And if that's the alternative, then you're right; I don't see this as a _good_ idea. I see it as the _only_ idea."

For a while, Beetee just stares at me. I feel like he's trying to read my skin, as if it somehow has the answer to why I've recently gone out of my mind. And maybe it does have the answer. Maybe it's written in my pores, like a stream built by raindrops. That would at least explain why I can't answer it myself. Because no matter how many times I look in the mirror, or see a picture of myself, or watch myself on TV, I can't ever see my skin in the exact way that everybody else does, because I'll always be reading it backwards instead of from left to right.

"Well, I'm in," says Haymitch suddenly, taking me by surprise. When I turn toward him, he actually looks serious, with his hand outstretched to mine as if offering to shake on a deal.

Not understanding why he wants to help me when his allegiance should be to his friend and Leo, I wait to shake his hand and ask him straightforwardly, "Why?"

With a shrug, he replies, "Because I don't want anyone to end up like me. I'm what happens twenty years down the line after somebody lets the person they love die. And let me tell you, kid, I'm no happy ending."

This time, it's my turn to stare, and it doesn't take long for me to believe Haymitch. I've never really thought about why he is the way he is; I always just assumed that the Games happened, and that mentoring had taken its toll on him. Now, though, it's clear to me that love happened, and the loss of that love had taken its toll. And this is enough for me to trust Haymitch without another question asked.

After nodding and shaking Haymitch's hand, I turn back to Beetee and ask, "What about you? Are you in?" I say this like I don't really need him to be in, but the truth is that I do. Beetee may be slightly nuts sometimes, but he's always the brains behind an operation, and I need him to be that for mine.

"Well," Beetee says thoughtfully, "I suppose the Gamemakers will want to interfere _somehow_ when they realize that their final two tributes aren't even going to _move_."

I smile, because I can anticipate such when Beetee finally comes to a conclusion and says, "So, yes, I'm in, so long as we wait it out for a while. We at least want to give them reason to flood the arena."

Though I'm not all that thrilled about Beetee's condition, since it means that I'm going to have to wait it out a while longer, I'll take what I can get, so I say quickly, "Deal."

Once all three of us have agreed to start a little chaos of our own, Haymitch somehow makes a whole round of shots appear. Neither Beetee nor I are big drinkers, but we each take one anyway, as a testament to our imminent breaking of the rules. I don't stay much longer, though, since I start to get antsy after about an hour.

Before I leave the bar, I agree to give the Games twenty-four more hours. So long as no action takes place from now through tomorrow afternoon, the Gamemakers will be ready to stir things up anyway, giving us the perfect opportunity to suggest how to do it. Unfortunately for me, though, I'm already growing impatient.

I'm back in the viewing room now, and it's late enough that Seeder and Chaff have left to go to sleep. They're not missing anything, since Leo's still sitting on his hill feeling stunned after what he did to Nickel, and Annie's shaking and sleeping in the bushes just like she was before.

I sit in front of her screen and stay up all night watching her, just to make sure that she doesn't disappear on me again. The cameras stay on her, but a part of me almost thinks that she isn't there after all. This girl that I'm seeing – this shaking, sobbing, scared little girl – is different from the girl I met on reaping day. That Annie Cresta was afraid of the Hunger Games because of how powerful they made the Capitol, but this Annie is afraid of the Games because of how powerless they make her.

As I'm thinking this, I can't help but wonder if I'll love this Annie as much as the one I met on reaping day. Because who knows how different she is? Who knows if the memories of Kasen's death will ever stop plaguing her? Who knows if she'll ever be the same? But then I think that that's okay. I don't exactly feel like the same person that I did a week ago either, but there is one thing that hasn't changed. I know without a shadow of doubt that I still love her, no matter how defeated she may be. And if she still loves me too, then that's all that matters. That's all I need.

So, when morning comes, I spend the majority of the day walking in circles around the mentor room, just pacing across the floor like I've been doing throughout the entirety of the Games already. And when Leo finally stands up and starts searching for Annie, my paces grow faster. When he cuts down all the rows of bushes he can find because he knows that Annie must be hiding in one of them, my paces grow faster still. And when he finds Annie and she doesn't move, so he just sits down in front of her so that they're both in the same place but staying just as still as they were yesterday, I stop pacing.

Instead, I run out of the room and meet Beetee in the front entrance of the center. He's watching one of the screens at the reception desk alongside Haymitch, and when I get close enough to them to hear, Beetee says to me, "It doesn't look like we have much time. We should go now."

"Oh, I don't know about that," jokes Haymitch. "Can we at least wait to see who blinks first?"

I haven't seen all of the Hunger Games over the seventy years that they've taken place, but I bet that Haymitch isn't the only person who seems to think that this has never happened before. Tributes don't just sit down and stare at each other when they're the only two still alive. But I don't think that that's exactly what's happening now. I think that Leo will make a move eventually, just like he finally stood up after sitting on that hill for so long. He needs time to believe that he's doing the right thing, because during most of that time, he knows that he's not.

Without saying anything, I grab Haymitch's arm and drag him away from the screen so that we can get going. Beetee leads us to the elevator and then uses a special key to take us downstairs rather than up, because of course the rumors of the control room being in the basement are right. But it turns out to be even more difficult to get down there than I ever would have thought, since Beetee has to give an eye scan for the elevator door to open once more.

The scan accepts, which must mean that Snow hasn't given up hope in recruiting Beetee to be a Gamemaker himself, and once Haymitch and I have stepped out of the lift, Beetee presses the button inside it to take him back upstairs.

"You're not coming?" I ask, surprised to see that he doesn't plan on joining us for the most important part.

"No," Beetee shakes his head. "I've done my part; it's time for you to do yours. I'll be in the viewing room watching for the flood."

I nod to say thank you as the elevator doors close. Then I turn around to see a similar looking door on the other side of a very narrow, white-walled hallway. As I reach out my hand to turn the doorknob, I look to Haymitch one last time to make sure that I'm not alone. I never thought I'd say this, but I think I might like Haymitch. He's more real than most people give him credit for, and that's a lot more than I could say for myself.

But I push this thought aside and replace it with one of Annie – her silhouette as she stood in my doorway the night after her interview – so that she's the person I'm thinking about when I burst into the Gamemakers' Lair.

The room is starkly white and serenely blue, with a group of Gamemakers all sitting at a hollow, round table with control panels acting as their desks. Inside them is another circle of workers, and the third circle is solid and topped with a three dimensional hologram-like map of the arena. At the front of it all, on the opposite side of the room that Haymitch and I are standing in now, is a giant screen on the wall with Annie and Leo on it, a crossed-arm Seneca Crane standing just below with his attention lost inside the arena.

When Crane, the Head Gamemaker, hears the doors open and the excess breathing of two outsiders, he turns around slowly, as if he was expecting us. He's wearing a green collared shirt beneath a gray sweater vest, and his facial hair is shaved perfectly to reflect the shape of lucky clovers on his cheeks. But his daunting presence is barely noticeable to me as he stands so close to the arena's map.

I get a chance to look at it during the stunned silence that accompanies all of the Gamemakers as they each take in the sights of Haymitch and me. The easiest thing to make out is the hill protruding from the side of the circular arena, and then the miniature figures of Annie and Leo sitting in the bushes not far off. The deadly streams are outlined in red on the map, and my eyes follow them back to the Cornucopia, where lies the enormous mud-pit that hid all of the original supplies. I take a step closer and stretch my neck to see over the two Gamemakers' tables, and I just manage to glimpse how deep the pit is, burrowing into the dirt for what must be a hundred feet until it's blocked by a dam, which is actually just a pile of growing spider mutts. Still, I realize quickly that it would only take a little shake for those spiders to pop, and for all of their buried water to come flowing up into the center of the arena.

"What are you doing here, Odair?" asks Crane when I've looked at the map for far too long. All of the other Gamemakers are facing me with expressions just as blank and robotic as Crane's when I look up at them.

By the time I get around to responding, Crane is walking around the tables to come closer to me, but I start walking in the opposite direction until we've switched places. Now that I'm the one standing underneath the screen, I say from across the room, "I just thought I'd drop by to make sure that you're all being properly entertained, that's all."

Crane is trying to ignore Haymitch's snarling from a few feet away as he says to me with the exact threat that I was hoping for, "Actually, things _were_ getting a bit slower than we'd like them to."

"You don't say?" I ask with fake surprise. Crane thinks that I've come to make sure that he _doesn't_ do anything to interfere, as if Annie has some secret plan to throw a knife in Leo's back like Leo did to Kasen.

But just as Crane's about to reply, I hear Annie's voice from the screen and turn around as she says to Leo, "I have a sister." She's had her eyes on Leo ever since he sat beside her, but now she's looking down at her hands, which are stretched out and floating shakily atop the water like broken lily pads.

The control room stays quiet, since everyone wants to know what's going to happen next, as Leo looks at Annie and waits for her to say more. I'm looking at her, too, and unlike everybody else in this room right now, I know exactly what she's doing. But like Leo, I still have no idea what she'll say next, and I desperately want to.

"Her name is Myla," Annie finally continues. "She's four years older than me. She's afraid of the water, because she thinks that it killed our mother, but I've never believed that. I think the water saved my mother, because it brought her to my dad, and it was the boat that killed her."

Leo still doesn't understand, but I can tell from the tears in his eyes that he's listening as Annie keeps going, her own eyes as dry as the sun because she isn't showing any emotion. She's a blank slate, an emptied reservoir, as she says, "And my father always liked boats. He used to tell us how safe they were, even after Mom died. But he's always been like that – he doesn't change his mind about anything, ever. I think that's what I love most about him, because it's the one trait that he passed on to me.

"I never change my mind about anything or anyone. I always knew that Kasen would support me just as much as I supported him, even when nobody saw how special he was. I never trusted you, even when Ember tried to tell me that I should. And I never stopped fighting. I know that people think I have now, but I haven't."

She looks back at Leo before she finally confesses, "That's why I'm telling you all of this. The more you know about me, the harder it will be for you to kill me." And as she says this, I smile, because I remembered Ember saying the same thing as soon as Annie started listing facts about herself to Leo.

But Leo didn't understand this before Annie told him, so now he's blinking profusely and trying to wrap his head around everything that she just said as he tells her, "Annie, I don't want to kill you."

Annie, who was always the one person in the alliance whom Leo actually confided in, seems to believe him. She knows that it wasn't his idea to kill Kasen and Ember, and she knows why he did it anyway. She also understands that he's going to do the same to her, as she tells Leo, "I know that you don't _want_ to, but you're going to anyway. Aren't you?"

I'm ready. I'm ready to make my move. I'm ready to end this. I'm ready to save her. That is all I can think about as I wait for Leo to nod and to take the knife out of his pocket, because all I want is the confirmation. So, as Annie looks at Leo helplessly, I look back at her and try to tell her through the screen that she only needs to be scared for one more minute, because I'm going to save her.

When Leo finally nods, and just as his hand reaches back to curl around the handle of his knife, I turn away from the screen, jerk my head toward Haymitch to tell him to hold Crane back, and lunge toward the model arena that I'm sure is more than just a map. I only manage to give the table three strong shakes before one of the Gamemakers takes action on his own accord and pulls me away from the model, but I know that it's enough.

Struggling against the man's hold, I see the water pour out of the dam on the map and then turn my neck to see it rising in Annie's bushes. She and Leo are swimming and quickly drifting apart after feeling what they must have thought was an earthquake shake the arena, and all they can do is keep treading water as it becomes far too deep to stand.

I don't get to watch for very long before I'm escorted outside the control room beside a bloody-nosed Haymitch, who seems to have attempted to fight his way through some of the Gamemakers. We're shoved into the elevator and brought back upstairs, and the whole way there, neither of us can stop laughing, because our ridiculous plan actually worked.

Once we're on the main floor, though, it hits me that Annie hasn't won yet. She may be a better swimmer than Leo, but that doesn't mean that he _can't_ swim, and I'm positive that he'll try to. Realizing this, I find myself running back to the viewing room, leaving Haymitch behind to walk lazily in my wake. I don't think he's run since the day he left his arena.

I don't expect to see anyone but Seeder and Chaff when I walk into the room, so I'm completely surprised to find a whole horde of people circled around Annie's screen and cheering her on. I walk up to them as if in a trance, and they all turn around in slow motion and make room for me to have the best view, directly in front of Annie's monitor.

Beetee and Cecelia are one side of me, and Mags is on the other. We're all standing together, and though I want to thank Beetee for bringing them all here, I know that I don't have to. He already knows that I'm grateful. And I really am, because I need each of them here for different reasons. I need Beetee because he gives me hope that I could one day be a good man. I need Cecelia because she teaches me how to take care of other people. I need Mags because she takes care of me.

Annie and Leo tread water for three days. The first day is easy, because they're both thankful for the water. Annie's glad that it saved her life, just like it did her mother. And Leo's grateful, too, because even though he knows that he might not win because of it, it also gave him an excuse to not kill Annie himself. And because they seem to float in opposite directions, neither of them has to think about taking the other down again. All they can think about is keeping themselves alive until they hear the final cannon blow.

The second day is gruesome, because they're running on no sleep, no food, and no drinkable water. This is the day when they have to get creative, using any supplies they have left to help them float. Leo sticks his knife into the trunk of a still-standing tree and lets his arms do some work in holding on in order to give his legs a break. Annie uses Kasen's rope bridge, which she must have had rolled up in her pocket, to help her float on her back. Neither of them give up, because they both know that sooner or later, one of them will.

The third day is hard, because they've both run out of ideas as well as energy, and now it's just about willpower. Leo has his eyes wide open and lists off the names of his of siblings in his low voice, repeating them over and over again to give him momentum and to keep him from falling asleep. Annie does the opposite, letting her eyes close and trying to harvest every last bit of energy she has left. This day is the hardest for me, too, because every time Annie's eyes close, I wonder if she'll leave me. But I have Beetee and Cecelia and Mags and even Haymitch, because they're all here, and they refuse to leave. I just hope that Annie knows that she has me, because I'm there, and I refuse to let her leave.

And on the morning of their tenth day in the arena, the beginning of their fourth day of swimming, they go under together. It happens quietly and it almost goes unnoticed, but not by me. The other mentors are eating breakfast in the kitchen, even Seeder and Chaff, but I've refused to leave the District 4 couch ever since I got back from the control room. I would probably smell and look terrible if it wasn't for the loads of cologne and makeup that Cecelia keeps rubbing on me, and I would probably be ridiculously tired if I wasn't running on love. I feel completely awake and focused as I stare up at that screen that has been my home for ten days now, but the exhaustion and the dementia hits me when I can't see Annie anymore.

She's just barely had her nose above the surface for the past few hours. All last night, she was shivering as the hypothermia started to settle in, but this morning, she just stops. Her teeth stop chattering and her arms stop flapping and her legs stop kicking. And for a while, she's okay. So long as she's still breathing, she's okay. But then she falls asleep for a second, and she's underwater, and then she's not breathing, and she's not okay.

When it happens, I stand up from my seat as if programmed to, and Mags is at my side as if she could feel me stirring. Then Seeder and Chaff return to Leo's screen, and that's when I realize that he's not on his either. I'm not sure how long he's been under in comparison to Annie, but I do know that they're both sinking, but they're also both alive, because a cannon has yet to blow.

The cannons are directly linked to the tributes' heartbeats, so they're timed to blow at the exact millisecond of a tribute's death. It's impressive technology, so I'm told, but I don't need to hear the fire to know when one of them is gone. Just before we all hear the booming sound across the water in the arena and the carpet in the room, and everybody looks around in shock because nobody knows which tribute has died, I can feel it happening.

It's commonly said that your life flashes before your eyes during the moment you die, but for me, that happens right now. My life with Annie plays over in a slideshow right in front of me, and like a body of water being struck by lightning, her blood rushes through mine in one massive hit. I can see and feel all of her, as if her spirit has left her own body and has attached to mine, and I think that's how I know that it isn't her who's gone.

Mags is looking at me with pity when I whisper, "It's not her." It's not her dying that I feel; it's her _fighting_. She's latching onto me because she needs something to pull her back to the surface, and it feels like lightning because I'm her connection to the sky. So, when Mags shakes her head and sighs, I yell at the screen, "_IT'S NOT HER!"_

And then she soars to the surface, her mouth open wide to take in a breath and her teeth chattering and her arms flapping and her legs kicking. She's alive, and that means that she's won, that she's the victor. She knows it, too, since at that very moment, a deafening gun fires, just like the one that did at the beginning of the Games, and though I want to stay by the screen and keep smiling and crying with her, I find my legs moving faster than my brain.

All too soon, I'm running out of the room again, flying down the hallway and outside to the helipad. The hovercraft that will be headed for the arena to pick her up, filled with nurses and Gamemakers and Peacekeepers, is just about to leave, but it's not going anywhere without me. I run toward the ship's drawbridge that's slowly closing with more persistence and determination than I've ever felt in my life, punching out two Peacekeepers in order to get there.

When one of the officers tries to fight back, however, Dax comes out of nowhere and shoves him aside before helping me onto the hovercraft. We just make it in time for take-off, and then we're flying away, and this time I watch where we're going. With no blindfolds or covered windows to keep everything secret, I just wait inside the 'pick up' station, looking through the opening that Annie will be pulled into as we make our way to the arena, staring into the clouds until they become the water, and holding my breath until I'm holding her.

The Gamemakers lower a carrier, which is really just a simple net, for her to latch herself onto, and then pull her into the aircraft where she latches onto me. She's delirious and fleeting, but I can tell that she recognizes me, and I'm close enough to her now to feel her softening heartbeat against my chest. The nurses try to pry her away, but when they see that I refuse to let go of her, they tell me to take off all her excess clothes as well as mine to try to warm her up, then to keep her still as they insert an IV into her arm. I do everything that they ask of me, but I also kiss her blue forehead and brush her wet hair and hold her clammy hands, because I think doing those things will help her just as much as the medicine will. And the whole way back, I smile, because this is it. This is the end.

Some people say that it's about the journey, not the destination. But I'm not always convinced that that's the case. It's not the journey that people wait for or aspire to. The destination is the light at the end of the tunnel. It's the reward after weeks of hard work. It's the calm after the storm. It's the reunion between two lovers. It's the happy ending, and this is mine. This is mine, because these Games have been the journey, but Annie... Annie's my destination.

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><p><em><strong>Note: <strong>What did you all think? I actually had the hardest time writing this chapter, though I'm not really sure why, so I hope that you liked it nonetheless. Anyway, thanks so much for reading, and be sure to leave a review!_

_The next chapter will be uploaded on **August 1st**, and it will go into a lot more detail regarding Finnick and Annie's reunion. Also, since you're all THG fans, I wanted to let you know that I recently wrote a **Katniss/Peeta one-shot** (titled 'Blood Bank'), so make sure to go read it if you're interested.  
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_Thanks again, and please do leave a review if you can!  
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_-Hailey  
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	10. Pick Me Up

**_Note:_**_ Get ready for the penultimate chapter, because here it comes... hope you like it!**  
><strong>_

_-Hailey_

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><p><strong>10 – Pick Me Up<strong>

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><p>'<em>How can I be with you now? Now that I know I just can't live without you.'<em>

–"_Pick Me Up" (Matt Hires)_

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><p>Watching Annie sleep is like staring into an eternal sunset. I can't look away because with every second that passes, I'm afraid that all that color around her cheeks, and all that peace locked between her cold eyelashes and her warm skin, like the horizon line between a blue ocean and an orange sun, might disappear. She might leave me again, which is a thought I can't seem to stand. All I know is that I'm not going to leave her, not now or ever, because my water won't survive without her sun, so if the world wants to tear us apart again, then somebody's going to have to pry her out of my bare hands or catch us while we're sleeping.<p>

And that's why I stay awake. Annie is completely unconscious by the time we return to the Capitol, and I carry her limp body straight to the hospital on the first floor of the training center. A group of doctors that don't look much older than me put her in some sort of warming chamber that I don't catch the name of. To me, it just looks like a sauna with a bed in the middle – a room about the size of a walk-in closet filled with dry heat that the doctors claim bears as strong a temperature as a standard oven. They advise me not to accompany Annie inside once they set her and all of her IVs up on her bed, but I go in anyway, because I know that the heat won't affect me. Whatever it might feel like, I know that I've felt worse, and being with Annie is the only thing that has ever made me feel any better.

We stay in the chamber for nearly ten hours, from late afternoon when Annie was picked up from the arena to early in the morning when her skin starts to burn and her eyes flutter open. Even with just a glimpse of that sea green, I find myself yelling for one of the nurses to come inside, and soon a Capitol worker is rolling Annie into an adjacent room that's already set up to treat her psychological symptoms now that the hypothermia has worn off, and it suddenly becomes frighteningly clear that those psychological symptoms are far more extreme than the physical ones were.

She screams for hours, and the only thing that seems to help is my holding her, and though the nurses aren't thrilled to have a reason to let me get in the way of their treatments, I'm secretly thankful that Annie wants me there. I'm not sure when I started wondering just how different she'd be after everything that happened in the arena – maybe before she even stepped foot on the platform, or maybe the moment she witnessed Kasen's beheading, or maybe not until she was hiding and shivering and covering her ears from the nightmares – but I knew before she woke up to be prepared for a challenge. She already recognized me on the hovercraft, but a part of me thought that she might resent seeing me again for all the memories of Kasen that I'm surely attached to. I suppose I should have known that Annie's memories of me aren't attached to anyone else but her.

For the rest of the day, I rock her back and forth on a hospital bed as she dozes in and out of sleep and as doctors flock around us to examine her. I am the only non-doctor allowed in, since I'm the only person who can get her to shut her mouth and uncover her ears and open her eyes when she slips into that impassive state that took control of her in the arena. Every time it happens, which goes from fairly often to only occasionally, I press my forehead to hers and sing her Mags's song before whispering that it's okay, because I'm here. I was watching when she felt alone and scared and helpless, because I saw her every minute, and because we made a promise to be together forever. And then I tell her to open her eyes to the promise, because it isn't Kasen who's right in front of her, lying atop Ember in a pool of their mixed blood. It isn't Kasen she's facing anymore, because now it's just our promise that's right in front of her. _I_ am right in front of her. _We_ are _right_ in front of her.

Once she understands that and begins to settle down, she acts more like her usual self again. She's still jerky and fragile, and she doesn't allow anyone else to touch her without snapping at them first, but when the doctors give us a few minutes alone, we're back to the 'us' that we've always been. We're back to those perfect in-between moments – me picking strands of seaweed out of her hair, Annie telling me that I don't have to feel so alone anymore, and the both of us feeling all the same feelings together.

And because of that connection, I can always feel it when Annie is about to slip away from me and those moments, because after a while I notice that it happens when she starts to go quiet – not just her voice, but her whole body, and even her eyes. She leaves me and goes somewhere else for a minute, somewhere deep inside her head, and I try to pull her back by asking her to tell me what she's thinking, or to tell me what went wrong.

"I just feel like everything's in my imagination," she says, and I know exactly what she means. Being in the arena is like being locked in a dream, but it's one that you're not supposed to wake up from, because most of the dreamers don't. And when you wake up and realize that they didn't, you start to wonder if maybe you're wrong, and that maybe the arena wasn't the dream after all. Maybe that was the only thing that was real.

But because I can't let her think that, I tell her softly but adamantly, "I still love you. You still love me. That isn't your imagination." And usually, it works. I pull her back to me, at least for the next ten minutes or so, and we have more time in the in-between before she slips away again, either into her torturous mind or a peaceful slumber. But no matter where she goes, I stay awake, because that's the only way to make certain that I stay with her.

I wonder if my eyes have been glued to remain permanently open by the time the next morning comes, when one of the psychologists knocks on the door and tries not to disturb Annie while she's sleeping by whispering coyly to me, "It looks like her injuries are all healed, so Snow wants her discharged within the next few hours so that she can be ready for her interview later tonight. I'll let you know when it's time to take her."

At first, I don't want to believe that it's already time for Annie to return to the real world. My body knows exactly how long it's been since these Games started or even ended, but my head tells me that we're not ready. She's not ready to see Caesar again and to watch the highlights of the Games that will be broadcast to her in front of a cheering audience of Capitol 'fans' before answering a slew of questions designed to tug at her still raw emotions. I'm not ready to let everyone in the world pick her apart before I've had the chance to put her back together again like she did for me. We're not ready for the world to see us like this, with our wounds exposed for the vultures to pick apart. We haven't had enough time to heal.

But there is no space to argue when it comes to Snow's wishes. The president of the Capitol always gets what he wants, and since I'm bound to be on thin ice with him since what happened in the control room a few days ago, I can't disobey him now. Plus, Snow was named after the frozen rain for a reason – he's well versed in destroying new life by covering it with the cold. I can't let him do that to Annie and me. I have no doubt that he'll try, because surely he knows about us and can't possibly be happy about what our relationship means for the secret work he gives me. I know that he'll try to freeze over our water, but I can't let him do it.

Sure enough, Dax arrives at the hospital only an hour later to escort me and Annie back to the fourth floor suite. I'm glad it's Dax and not a Peacekeeper, but I'm still worried about Annie. I have to wake her up because she's still asleep, which I hate doing. It's even worse when Annie throws another one of her fits upon seeing Dax, but the doctors don't seem to care that this might be a sign of her need for further treatment. They want her out as quickly as possible, and so as soon as I have my arms wrapped around her and she's silenced beneath her tears, we're shoved outside and then we follow Dax through the center and to the elevator.

Annie appears to be in a state of shock as the cameramen that have somehow broken into the center start bombarding us, but I think it's better for everyone that she's present and in shock rather than distant and manic. Her silence isn't what the paparazzi want from us, but at least it's what they expect, and I don't think the same would be said if Annie tried to scream at them too.

I keep Annie and Dax separated as we ride quietly to the fourth floor suite, but I soon learn that it isn't their interaction I should be worrying about. Because as soon as the elevator door dings open, Mags is standing in front of the three of us, and it's her who sends Annie into the latter's greatest fit yet.

This one isn't as loud or violent as the others have been, but somehow, it's still worse. It's heartbreaking instead of skin-crawling, because after Annie lets go of me, she curls herself into a ball on the floor and starts sobbing into her knees, and she thrashes at my hands every time I try to open her back up.

But this time, it's only Mags who can comfort Annie, since it's Mags whom is crying over. The elderly woman can barely lower herself onto the ground where Annie is, but she manages to put a hand on her shoulder, making Mags the first person other than me whom Annie's let touch her. For a while, I'm not sure why, since Mags and Annie were never that close before Annie went into the arena; in fact, they always kept away from each other because of their differing opinions of what was or wasn't good for me. But then I realize that there was one thing – or rather, one person – that they always agreed upon.

That's the only reason I let Mags help Annie to stand up before leading her away and whisking her off to Kasen's abandoned bedroom. Mags shuts the door on me when I try to follow them inside, but surprisingly, I don't attempt to kick in the barrier, because I trust Mags, but also because of what I hear Annie tell her as she flees inside.

"It's my fault, Mags," she says in between breaths and sobs. "I swore that I would protect him; I _swore_ that I would get him out!" And then the door slams and I can no longer hear their conversation.

I've been worried about that too. In fact, I think I once blamed myself for Kasen's death because I knew that that's how Annie felt, and I wanted to lift that burden off her shoulders. And when I believed that it was my fault like Annie believes now, the only person I wanted to talk to about it was Mags, because she was the one person who could prove me otherwise, because she was the person who loved Kasen the most. So now, I have to let Annie have the same conversation with Mags that I once had, because she needs to hear Mags tell her that she isn't to blame, because nobody is. At least, nobody but President Snow.

Still, I find myself thinking about Annie as I wait in the hallway for her to come out of Kasen's room. I'm always thinking about Annie these days, but right now I find myself thinking about my future with her. That's something I haven't even considered until now, because as much hope as I had that she'd win the Games, I was never completely sure of her chances. And now that she's accomplished the impossible, I wonder what further obstacles we'll have to accomplish, knowing now that we'll at least be together to conquer them.

But then I think, will we ever have a future? Even if we stay together, and I'm sure that we will, that doesn't mean that we'll ever be able to escape our past. Annie's already suffering from a type of grief and confusion that most people will never experience in their lives, let alone comprehend, and can that kind of grief ever be fixed? Can she ever find her way back from the river before she flows into that dead sea? Will we ever heal, or are we just fooling ourselves into thinking that we can move forward when the current's clearly pulling us back?

By the time Mags opens the door and slips into the hallway, I've lost track of how long I've been leaning against the wall waiting for them. It must have been a while, though, since Mags comes out alone and closes the door lightly as if Annie's fallen asleep inside, and she doesn't appear to have expected to see me there. My voice surprises her when I ask monotonously, "Do you really think that bringing her in there will help?"

I've been telling Annie not to think about what happened to Kasen and to focus instead on what's happening to us right now, so what am I supposed to think about Mags taking Annie into Kasen's room so that she can fill Annie's head with all of the memories that I've been trying to block out?

Mags jumps slightly since I've startled her, but then she turns toward me and whispers confidently, "Yes, I do."

Now, I'm as tired as I've ever been but I still don't want to sleep, because I don't want to let myself dream about everything that happened instead of living through all that's _happening_, and I think my grogginess takes its toll as I ask almost accusingly, "So, what, you think that's enough? You think that's all she needed – just a walk through the room of all the things that he once touched? You think that's all she needed to get over it?"

"_No_, Finn," says Mags with far more certainty in her voice than I had in mine. "I think that she needed to touch everything that he once did, because it's the closest she'll ever get to touching _him_. And I don't think that she'll ever 'get over it'. None of us will. But that doesn't mean that we should run away from him, no matter how hard we try to keep him out of our dreams."

I stare at her for a good five minutes, the whole time trying to understand who she was referring to when she said 'we'. I know that she's including Annie and herself, but is she possibly talking about me as well? Does she know just as well as I do that the reason I'm not sleeping is only partially due to Annie's return, but that mostly it's because I'm even more afraid than Annie is? After all, at least she's letting Kasen in, even if doing so is fueling her insanity. At least she isn't determined to push the boy away.

A part of me wants to talk to Mags about it once more, because the last conversation I had with her regarding Kasen really did help. Another part of me doesn't want to burden her even further. As it turns out, I don't have to decide which part to go off of, since in a split second, Starlin is at my side and is asking where Annie is.

Mags disappears the moment the stylist shows up. I manage to convince Starlin to let Annie wake up naturally, which she does after another hour. Then I go into Kasen's room on my own to talk to her for a minute before letting Starlin take her. I tell Annie that she has to do this interview tonight, but that if she doesn't want to, or if she thinks even for a moment that she can't, then I'll do everything in my power to get her out of it.

All she says back to me is, "It's okay. I'll do it. Kasen would want me to do it, right?"

And even though I know the question wasn't rhetorical, I don't respond with a straight answer. Instead, I just say, "I don't know. I don't know what Kasen would want."

Annie looks at me, but I feel like she's looking _through _me. It's the closest I've felt to her since getting her back from the arena, yet for some reason, I'm not able to reciprocate the gesture. This time, I've left her to bury myself somewhere deep in my own head, as if she's now okay and I'm not. But when I pull myself out of the daydream and turn to face her finally, her eyes have traveled away from mine, focusing on a book of knots that sits on Kasen's old dresser as she fades away again. And sadly to myself, I wonder if this is what it will be like from now on – one of us will disappear and then come back just in time for the other to leave. I wonder if there will ever again be enough of those in-between moments for us to share them and stretch them out across two lifetimes.

For the rest of the day, Annie remains distant. Since I have a feeling that this will happen, I order Starlin to let me inside Annie's room with the two of them and Starlin's prep team. Starlin seems caught off guard by the request at first, since she doesn't realize the way Dax does just how close Annie and I have become. But since I make it a _statement_ rather than a question, she has no place to defy me.

That doesn't stop Starlin from trying to cover Annie up as she and the others start cleaning and pruning every last speck of Annie's body, from her toenails to each strand of hair on her head. But when Starling tries to make Annie undress for her inside the closed-off bathroom, Annie throws another one of her fits and I have to burst inside and hold her to calm her down. That's when Starlin finally understands that Annie and I are together, and from then on, she no longer skirts around me as she makes Annie over to the Capitol's highest standards.

Ironically, Starlin's transformation of Annie is just as mesmerizing to me as it will surely be to the rest of the world. It must have something to with the fact that what Starlin has to start off with is a battered and broken body. I've been holding Annie's frail form for days now, but seeing her from afar gives me a whole new perspective. As she stands naked in the center of her bedroom while Starlin sorts through some dresses for her to try on, I watch her from my seat on the bed and wish that I didn't have to see her look this way.

She's nothing but skin and bones, her legs shaking poles holding up a starved stomach. The doctors did their best to paste up any scars she had from the arena, but even they couldn't cure her malnourishment overnight. I'm surprised that she's even able to stand on her own, and just thinking of such makes me get off the bed so that I can stand beside her and let her heavy head rest on my shoulder. And soon, her eyes are closed and she's turning into me, her arms dead at her side but her face searching for my chest. I instinctively wrap my arms around her back and wince at the feeling of her entire frame only being less than half the size of mine. Still, I don't hold her like her bones might crack or like her skin might tear, because I know that that's not what she needs. She needs me to hold her as tightly as I possibly can, because that makes her feel strong, and so that's exactly what I do. I hold her so tightly against my shirt, which she's staining with tears, that she probably can't breathe, which is what makes me stop breathing too. But with both of us so silent, we're able to hear our blended heartbeats through the in-between.

I'm not sure when we finally break apart, but I know that Starlin doesn't mean to interrupt us. She's just doing her job, and she seems to do it rather well. By early evening, Annie's all waxed and tanned and is wearing a blue dress that goes from as light as white at the bodice to dark as night at the knees. She's wearing an entire ocean, just like the one she nearly drowned in but really saved her life, with her legs caught in the deep and her head bobbing atop the surface. Her hair is tied up in a knot at the back of her head, and though it takes me a minute to recognize it, I soon realize that the knot is one that Kasen used to tie on his rope.

I dress myself in short swim trunks provided by Starlin, refusing to wear the even skimpier netting that I usually do for Annie's sake more than my own, and then walk alongside the beautified Annie and dapper Dax all the way down to Caesar's studio. We head inside through a hidden entrance that takes us straight into the backstage area to avoid the lurking fans and photographers, but once we make it into the wings, Dax bids us farewell and then Annie and I turn to each other to say our own goodbyes.

She has a personalized waiting room to stay in while I accompany every other mentor involved in this year's Games onto the stage for the first part of tonight's Closing Ceremonies. It's tradition for Caesar to start off the night with a collective interview of all the mentors, asking them about their respective tributes and strategies, as well as their plans and hopes for next year. It's not usually something I look forward to, since I tend to be asked more questions than any other mentor just because of my popularity in the Capitol, and this year is sure to be even worse, since I was the one to mentor the victor.

Annie knows all of this, since of course she's watched my interviews on various years previously, and she seems to sense my anxiety as she takes my hand, squeezes it, and looks straight into my eyes while asking, "Do you remember what I said to Leo before the flood?"

I try to act normally upon Annie's mention of the arena's flooding, since she doesn't know that I was the person behind the giant earthquake. I thought that it would be better for all of us to keep that detail to myself, since Snow wouldn't want word getting out about my interfering with the Gamemakers' plan. But I try to remind myself that Annie's only asking about Leo and not the flooding itself, so I think back on the words she said to him and nod my head when I remember.

With my confirmation, Annie adds, "I know I told him that I never change my mind about anyone, but I was lying." If she didn't have my full attention before, she has it now. "I did change my mind about you. I used to see you on the screens and think that you were an obnoxious, arrogant pain in the ass. But you never seemed like that person once I met you, and that's not the person I fell in love with."

I smile at that, because it's the first time since she's been back that she's the one telling me how she feels rather than the other way around, and I didn't realize until now how much I needed to hear her say those words. But my smile disappears when she finishes by saying, "Even though you might be going on screen right now, don't pretend to be that obnoxious, arrogant pain in the ass. Just this once, be the person I fell in love with." I'm not smiling because I know that she means it, but I don't know that I can go through with it. I know that Annie needs me to be myself right now, but she also wants me to do it for Kasen. She wants me to face him up there like she's about to, because that way, we can face him together.

And she knows me well, because she knows that I would do anything for her, even when I don't have enough faith in myself to do it. To tell her that I'll try, I end up leaning down and kissing her, also for the first time since the Games ended. It's short and barely more than a mere touch, but I think that it's the perfect first step for both of us. And right now, that's what we need – a first step and a chance to start over so that we might move forward again.

I keep my promise, too. Being myself and stopping with the pretend is all I can think about as I take my spot on center stage beside Mags, in front of all the other mentors, including Beetee, Haymitch, and Cecelia, all of whose smiles I can feel penetrating the back of my head.

Caesar Flickerman asks what feels like a hundred questions about mentoring Annie, all of which I answer honestly without giving the status of our relationship away. But then Caesar moves on to all the fallen tributes, starting with the ones who were killed at the Cornucopia and ending with Leo. And when he gets to Kasen, Mags takes her chance to answer most of the questions, but eventually Caesar speaks directly to me, if only to get a larger reaction from the live audience.

"What about you, Finnick?" he asks, shortly after asking Mags the same question, "What are your thoughts on the late boy who can't be touched?"

I can feel Mags's eyes searing through me skin as I look straight at Caesar's powder-blue hair and pretend that I'm looking into Kasen's puppy-dog eyes as I answer, "He was an incredible kid. I don't think any of us will ever get over what happened to him. But that's okay, because I don't think we want to. I think we'd all rather remember everything about him for as long as we possibly can."

I earn quite a few sympathetic sounds of appreciation from the girls in the audience, but it's Mags whose reaction I turn to see. She merely nods at me and sends a wink between claps, and I know that everything between us is okay, and that it will be okay, probably for the rest of our lives. Mags can accept my love for Annie now, because now_ I'm_ the person whom they can both agree upon.

After a few more questions are asked about Ember, Nickel, and Leo, all of the mentors are finally let off stage and the show takes a short intermission, leaving the audience and televisions with the promise that this year's victor will appear after only a short break.

Backstage, Mags gives me a curt hug before leading me into a pack of supporters. Beetee, Haymitch, and Cecelia offer me and Annie their congratulations and utmost approval, and I thank them all individually for the help they've each given me along the way, adding to Haymitch especially, "I owe you one."

"I might just take you up on that one day," he snarls back at me, acting as if accompanying me to the control room hadn't been as much fun for him as I know it was.

Then, we all say goodbye, the rest of the mentors heading off for a bar or their rooms before they take the morning trains back home to their districts. I probably won't see any of them until next year's Games, and just this once, I think that I might actually miss being in their company. Luckily, though, I have the best possible company to keep in the meantime.

Thinking of her, I rush out of the wings and quickly take my reserved seat in the first row from the stage, since I don't have time to check on Annie before her own interview begins. I have to have a Peacekeeper on each side of me to keep the young girls from reaching out and attempting to pet my hair. They all pipe down once Annie's on stage, though, ready for the much-anticipated first public appearance of this year's victor.

Caesar walks her out with her hand on his arm, and I lean forward in the most discreet way possible to try to gain her attention. I want Annie to know that I'm here and that I'm watching as she relives her days in the arena, just like I was when she was actually there. Once she sees me, I can tell that she's still okay, just like she was before my interview, and I take her sea glass heart out of my pocket and kiss it softly while she's still looking my way, and when she holds onto the heart at the end of her own necklace, I know that she understands that I'm trying to tell her that I love her, and I know that she's saying it back to me.

After Caesar introduces Annie and says a word of congratulations on behalf of the whole of Panem, he tells her to turn herself around so that she can face the giant screen behind her as it starts fast forwarding through this year's most exciting moments in the arena. For the first while, Annie seems to do okay as she watches, and even appears interested, since much of what she's seeing are scenes that she wasn't a part of herself. It all starts with the Cornucopia, which features mostly Nickel, then moves onto Kasen's reveal and the alliance's formation before panning back to an intimate moment shared between Maple Man and Horse-Nose that even I must have missed while watching. Then comes the attack on the careers led by Annie and Leo, then Maple Man's death followed by Noor's, and finally Leo's betrayal.

Annie is riveted when the screen shows Nickel giving Leo his ultimatum. I can tell that she's even gladder now that she didn't kill Leo herself, since it wasn't his idea to kill Kasen and Ember after all. Annie always believed the best in him, just like she did me, and I've always loved her for that. More importantly, though, I think it's also a huge part of what Annie loves about herself.

But things grow tense when the screen follows Leo as he walks back up the hill to the alliance's old camp. Once he gets to Kasen, I can feel Annie start to shut down. I don't see much of it happening, since her face is turned away from me at the moment, but it doesn't matter; my other senses are enough. They're all I need to hear her breath catch in her throat, to taste the blood intoxicating her mouth, and to her heart stop beating.

I stand at the exact moment that _my_ knife cuts through Kasen's neck, which also happens to be when Annie starts screaming again. This fit is the worst yet, probably because it's coming after her most lucid hour since the arena, but of course no one in the Capitol understands what's going on. They're all standing up now as well, staring at Annie while gasping and whispering to each other as the scene enfolds. I yell frantically at the Peacekeepers around me to get someone to turn off that screen that Annie's trying to shut herself off from, but I swear that the volume only grows louder as the knife seeps into Ember.

Eventually, I give up on trying to push my way through the crowd of the front row and decide to just leap onto the stage, scooping Annie into my arms as I see a flash of white hair at the corner of the stage where Snow's podium is hidden, waiting with a golden crown sitting atop it and ready to be rolled out for the official announcement of Annie's first place finish.

I meet Mags backstage, and she helps ward off any followers to make a way for me to carry Annie back outside and into the training center. Once there, I have to run to the elevator to avoid being caught by a Peacekeeper, but we're safe once we've made it to the suite. Snow will be even angrier with me now, and probably Annie as well, but his threats mean nothing in comparison to Annie's comfort. I shouldn't have let her go out there at all, but since I did, I have to take care of her now, because she wasn't ready. She desperately wanted to be, and I think I did too, but she's just not strong enough yet. Like I thought this morning, her wounds may be covered up with fast-acting medicines and pounds of make-up, but they're still fresh. She still hasn't had enough time to heal.

We end up in my bedroom because it's the first place I think of to bring her, and because I don't want her prep team to barge in tomorrow morning like they would if we were in her room. But I regret bringing her here just as soon as I set her down on the floor where my bed should be, because there are flower petals laid across the blankets that have been set down there, and candles are burning atop nearly every surface. When I let myself look around, I also notice that the few things I usually have scattered across the floor have been picked up and put away so that the room is perfectly clear and ridiculously romantic. Sighing, I rub a hand over my forehead and curse the existence of Dax Dirigible for being the one person in the world who tries his hardest to provide grand gestures at the most inopportune moments.

Because she's still trying to drive the image of Kasen's dismantled body out of her mind, Annie takes a while to notice the state of the room. When she finally does, she looks up at where I'm standing and nearly starts to cry with guilt for ruining what appears to be a perfectly planned evening, but I quickly sit down next to her and reassure her that this wasn't my idea, and that I expect nothing from her – not on a night like this, or ever, for that matter. I just wanted to bring her somewhere safe.

But she continues to ramble off profuse apologies, for ruining my night as well as many others' I think, saying things like, "I tried not to imagine, but I couldn't help it. He was right in front of me, and I couldn't do anything. I couldn't save him and I couldn't touch him. I just wanted to touch him."

"I know you did," I tell her as I rub her back gently. She isn't so much crying as hyperventilating at this point, but I try to be soothing as I say, "Shh. It's okay. I'm here. _We're_ here. It's okay."

After a while, just like always, she comes back to me. She kisses me a few times, and I always kiss her back, but we don't do anything more, because we aren't ready to yet. Instead, we just hold each other, pulling one another out of the darkness whenever one of us slips away, Annie into her nightmares and me into my dreams. We work together as if we were built to do so, facing our past in order to make way for our future.

And within a few hours, the glue on my eyes finally wears off, and when Annie can tell that I'm having a hard time fighting the sleep, I say to her, "I want to stay here with you. I don't want to feel like everything's in my imagination."

Then she tells me, "I still love you. You still love me. That isn't your imagination." And then I fall asleep, dreaming about Kasen looking down on Annie and me and smiling because we're together, and it's his fault.

But morning comes all too soon, and I wake to a soft knocking on my door that isn't quite loud enough to make Annie stir. I open the door to a see an Avox – a Capitol rebel punished with muteness for their treachery – standing in front of me dressed in clothes as white as snow, and handing me a letter that smells of roses. The Avox disappears before I have the chance to thank her, leaving me standing on the threshold with the unopened envelope sitting atop my shaking palm.

All too soon, I regret falling asleep. I turn to look at Annie and I regret staring into my own eternal sunset. I look at her and with every second that passes, I'm assured that all that color around her cheeks, and all that peace locked between her cold eyelashes and her warm skin, like the horizon line between a blue ocean and an orange sun, is about to disappear. She's not going to leave me again, but I have a terrible feeling that I'm about to leave her, because even though my water won't survive without her sun, it looks as though the world wants to tear us apart again, and Snow won't have to pry her out of my bare hands to do it, because he's already caught us while we were sleeping.

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><p><em><strong>Note:<strong>These two really can't seem to catch a break, haha. I guess that's the idea of a 'tragic love story', but anyway, let me know how you liked the chapter in a review! There's only one chapter left before this particular story comes to a close, which is kind of bittersweet for me, but I'm trying to look forward to it and will be putting a lot of effort into these final pages. The chapter will be uploaded on **August 13th**, and will follow Finnick and Annie through their return home to District 4._

_I'd also like to reference that I drew a lot of inspiration for the 'imagination' quote from the song "Heart in Wire" by my favorite singer/songwriter, Matthew Mayfield. He deserves all the credit for that line and more, and you should check him out if you haven't heard of him. His music honestly changed my life.  
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_Thanks again, and make sure you don't leave this page before reviewing! I sincerely appreciate all the feedback I receive.  
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_-Hailey  
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	11. Out of the Dark

**_Note:_**_ So, this is it! I just want to say a quick thank you to all of you readers and reviewers who have stuck with this story from beginning to end. This is the final chapter, and I really hope you enjoy it, because it's for you.**  
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_-Hailey_

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><p><strong>11 – Out of the Dark<strong>

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><p>'<em>In a strange, strange place, lying on the edge of a star... In these violent days, I only want to be where you are. Even fools, they say, can find a way out of the dark.'<em>

–"_Out of the Dark" (Matt Hires)_

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><p>It all started on reaping day, and I wish that I could go back there. I wish that I could be in the one place I never needed to escape from. I wish that I'd never met someone for whom I would do anything. I wish that that person hadn't pulled me in like a piece of driftwood caught in a riptide. I wish that I didn't have to count down the seconds until my time with her will be over. I wish that I'd never made the Capitol so angry, and that they'd never made me wait. I wish that I hadn't fallen apart, or at least that I could have the time to put myself back together. I wish that she didn't need me to carry her home, or that we didn't need each other. I wish that I'd never made her my destination when I knew how impossible such a journey would be. I wish that I hadn't stared into the eternal sunset of sleep. I wish that I could find my way out of the dark and go back to the start, when I still knew how to deal with my pain – how to deny it… how to lie… how to pretend.<p>

Right now, I'm trying to hold onto the note from President Snow that an Avox brought to my door. I'm trying to keep them steady, but my hands won't stop shaking, because I know exactly what this letter will say. I know that it's just another one of Snow's ultimatums, like the one I've kept on my bedside table for five years but have never given in to. The only difference between this letter and the one at home in District 4 is that now, the Games are over; Snow isn't playing anymore, and he knows exactly which buttons to push to make me hand myself over to him.

I have to tell myself not to look at Annie as I slowly rip open the seal of the white envelope, then pull out the personalized parchment that smells so strong it makes me gag, and read:

_To Mr. Finnick Odair,_

_ Please accept my most sincere congratulations on your impressive mentorship that led to Ms. Cresta's victory in the 70__th__ Annual Hunger Games. Though I am sure you are eager to return home to the Victor's Village of District 4, I would like to remind you that my offer of providing you a permanent residence here in the Capitol still stands. I do hope to hear a response from you regarding my latest request, as I assure you that it is in your best interest to oblige._

_Best regards,_

_Mr. President Snow_

_The Capitol_

Just as I expected, his words are eerily similar to the ones he wrote me after I won my own Games. The only real difference is the last line, which is very clearly meant not as a request, but rather a demand. He's threatening me, and as much as I'd like to ignore it the way I did before, I can't think of only myself anymore. I have somebody else that I need to protect. I have Annie.

It's the thought of her that makes me crumple the note in my hand and walk out the bedroom door without once looking back. Annie has plenty of sleep to catch up on, so I have a feeling she won't be up for hours, and right now, anger is spreading through my veins like drops of water splattering onto the flattest glass. I need to deal with that anger before I can be anywhere near Annie, because even though I might have wanted her to be scared once, I don't want to be the one she fears. I only want to be the one she loves.

Mags is in the living room, sitting on the couch and flipping through the pages of Kasen's book on knots, but I walk right past her until I'm standing in the camera-filled hallway outside the suite. Dax, who appears to have been dealing with questions about Annie all night, helps push me through the crowd and into the elevator. He doesn't ask me where I'm going, or why I don't have Annie with me and am still undressed with only the swim trunks I was wearing yesterday tied around my waist. I probably look like I've returned to my usual bachelorhood, which Dax presumably appreciates, but I also think that he's recently become even more loyal to me and Mags and Annie than he ever was to the Capitol.

When I get to the ground floor of the Training Center, I start to wonder if I have any idea where I'm going. I'm not sure that my head does, but my legs seem to know exactly where to go. They place my feet in a long, winding path that leads me through the automatic doors and into the streets of the Capitol until I'm standing in front of the city's very own Justice Building.

The giant slab of marble doesn't look anything like the Justice Building at the end of the pier in District 4, or any of the personalized government structures in all the other districts of Panem that I saw on my Victory Tour. This building is located at the edge of a man-made lake, with a moat flowing around the staircases that descend from all sides. There are guards on each step and hidden cameras in both the stone exterior as well as the pristine water fencing. At the top of the stairs lies a towered edifice built atop two ancient double doors fit with knockers in the shape of the Capitol crest.

Before I can think about the consequences of doing such, my feet march right up and past the guards and then my hands take to the knockers and pull both doors wide open. As they hold and then fall back gently with the morning breeze, I walk inside to find a décor that looks no different from the rest of the Capitol buildings – vast, white, and empty – and am soon facing the similarly fashioned President Snow.

It takes one look between us for him to understand why I've come and to see the crumpled letter balled into my fist. With a single jerk of his bushy bearded head, the guards retreat and we are left alone, standing about two yards apart with me ten yards from the now closed doors and him the same amount of space from a glass desk, atop which sits nothing but a long, thin vase with a single red rose stemming out the top. That rose is the only speck of color I've seen all morning, and though it should feel relieving to see such, I find myself staring at the flower and feeling nothing but disdain. Snow has no right to take something so beautiful and turn it into something wretched. He has no right to prune its thorns and clip its petals, only to let it wilt from its lack of light. He has no right to tease his etiolated country with the hope of color when he's the only one who really gets to see it.

Snow has his hands clasped together at the bottom of his black, collared shirt. He is stoic and calm just as I remember he was when I met him for the very first time, in this very room five years ago on this very day. That day, he did all the talking as he made arrangements for my mother's medicine and for my way of payment that I would provide him the following year, when I returned to the Capitol as more than just a mentor. Today, _I'm_ going to do the talking, and I'm hoping to make him believe that he no longer has any leverage over me.

"I've come to decline your offer," I tell him. I am going to go home with Annie, and I'm going to say goodbye to my dying mother, and then I'm going to stay there forever. I won't come back here. He can't make me come back here.

When Snow shows no sign of reaction, but rather keeps his eyes set on mine, I try to make my point clearer by saying, "My mother is barely holding on anymore. Medicine won't help her now, so you have nothing to barter with." But he does, and he knows it. I suppose I was just wishing that he didn't.

Once again, he doesn't seem at all thrown off or disappointed as he paces back to his desk and leans his nose toward the rose, then pulls it out of its vase, snips off its stem with only his fingernails, and pins it to the lapel of his blazer. Then he starts walking back toward me as he voices his first words in a question. "Why do you think Miss Cresta won these Games, Odair? Was it, perhaps, because she was an _underdog_?"

I'm not sure how he wants me to respond, so I just answer the way _I_ want to as I say, "No, Sir. Annie won these Games because she was the best swimmer." I don't want to admit to flooding the arena myself, so I think it's best to give Annie all the credit for her final days in the swamp. And just because I can't help but refute Snow and his insinuation, I add, "And anyway, she wasn't the underdog. Underdogs are victims, martyrs, sacrifices. That was Kasen."

"Ah, yes," Snow nods, "The boy who can't be touched – well, I do believe that statement was proven wrong."

I try to resist the urge to punch the president until he's lying dead on the ground as he takes a short breath and continues, "Though after the hysterics Miss Cresta displayed last night, it seems to me that it may be time for her to become her own martyr."

Of course, this is about last night. Annie couldn't hold herself together after watching Kasen's beheading in the arena recap, and Snow doesn't support public tantrums. To him, insanity is even worse than rebellion, because while rebellion can be contained, insanity is merely contagious.

Still, I expected the reason Snow would have to use Annie against me. He doesn't want us together because he wants to own me for his city, and because he wants Annie to disappear and never be thought of again. What I want to know is how he plans to make any of that happen. That's why I ask, "What are you suggesting?"

He smiles to see that I'm now willingly following the conversation and explains, "There is a psychiatric hospital located a few doors down from the Training Center. I'm sure that Miss Cresta would be warmly welcomed there."

"_No_," I say practically before he's finished. What he's talking about is no hospital; it's a _prison_ for the insane. It's a host of cells with doctors that use the latest torturing techniques to turn their patients into vegetables and then wait for them to die. It's where Snow sends all the mentors that try to kill themselves after their tributes do the same, and I won't let Annie be one of his lab rats.

With just as serene and steady a voice as before, Snow silences me by saying, "All right. If you would rather she return to District Four and be watched over by her father, then I assume that you will take her place here. Granted, you should find your accommodations much more satisfying, though you will be given plenty of _work_. You will also be permitted to visit District Four one day each month, excluding the months in which you shall remain here as a mentor. Either way, one of you must stay and the other must go."

He's going to make me a full-time, commonplace prostitute in exchange for Annie's safety. He doesn't need my mother's illness anymore, because now he has Annie's. He let me interfere with the Games just so that he could gain something new to hold over my head. This was his plan all along.

Snow is walking toward the front doors and opening them for me as he says, "If you step foot on that train, I will take it as a sign of your decision to return to the Capitol next day. If you decide otherwise, I will be expecting to see Miss Cresta here at noon. The choice is yours."

The Tribute Train leaves this afternoon to take our whole team back home and announce Annie's victory to her local supporters. I am going to get on that train and go with Annie and Mags and Dax, and then I will come straight back here the very next morning. There is no 'and', 'or', or 'but' in this scenario, because Snow is wrong. The choice _isn't_ mine, because there is no choice. There is only love. There is only safety. There is only sacrifice.

I'm ushered outside before either of us says another word. The walk back to the Training Center is slow and lonesome, but I need it to be. I need the emptiness and the translucence of the Capitol. The reason to fight for something more. The reminder that I can't let its darkness inside Annie's head. The promise to myself that I am strong enough to walk through its twisting turns and spinning streets without getting lost along the way.

When I make it back to the fourth floor suite, Dax and Mags have already eaten breakfast, and Dax apologizes to me for not being able to wait for either Annie or me to join them. I tell him not to worry about it and then head to my room, where I find Annie sitting up on the floor with her eyes wandering from one blown out candle to the next.

As I close the door and lean my forehead against the wood with my back facing Annie, I hear her take a breath and stand up. Soon, her arms are wrapped around my waist, and she's pulling me ever so slightly away from the door as she whispers into my neck, "We're going home today."

I close my eyes at the words, because I won't lie to her. But I also know that I can't say anything yet, so I try to slow the beats of my broken heart as I turn around and wrap my own arms around Annie. "Yeah. We are. We're going home today." I say the words, but my voice is cracked, and she notices.

She pulls away so that she can really look at me, and I know that she's worried. She wants to ask if I'm okay, but she doesn't get the chance to when Starlin knocks on the door. I suppose the stylist must have realized that Annie would be in my room after what she discovered about us yesterday, and I let her inside to dress Annie and say her goodbyes before we head off for the train station. At first, I try to leave the room in hopes of getting some food to bring back to Annie, thinking that she'll be okay as long as Starlin's with her, but Annie refuses to let go of my hand long enough for me to walk away.

Our hands remain intertwined until we're both leaving, when Dax tells us to stay apart on our walk out of the Center, since there are enough Capitol onlookers waiting for us outside to fill the stadium used in the Tribute Parade. Dax seems to have done his job well, too, since none of the Capitol folk appear any less excited about Annie now than they did before her interview gone wrong. Either he convinced them that the event wasn't anything worth fretting about after all, or the people here are just too selfish to care _who_ the victor is so long as there's a victor.

Still, Annie isn't comfortable with her fame, so Dax and Mags try to keep her as hidden as possible as I pose for everyone and answer questions about what I'll be doing in my time off by saying things like, "Don't you mean _who _I'll be doing?" Then I wink and put my hands on my hips and smile, and I think about how used to this I'll have to get now that it's about to become the real me.

When we finally make it to the train, I stay by the windows in the main compartment until we're out of the city, waving to everyone as we pass to keep up my appearance. As I'm doing so, I can feel Annie's eyes on me, and I know without having to look that my pretending hurts her. She isn't like all the possessive fan-girls I've been with before, who want me all for themselves. Annie wants the entire world to see me for who I really am, but she doesn't realize that the only thing that's me is what she sees.

Once we're outside Capitol borders, I sit down at the couch in the compartment and take Annie's hand to tell her that I'm sorry, and this time I'm the one who never lets go of her. For the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, we sit with Mags and Dax and talk about all the things we missed in District 4: the daily routine, the salty smell, the changing tides. I only lose Annie a couple of times all day – it happens whenever the topic of conversation has anything to do with Kasen – and I always manage to bring her back to me.

In fact, I'm far more absent most of the time than she is. I don't get the chance to tell Mags about Snow's ultimatum and my ultimate choice, even though I would tell her if I could, since I'm always with Annie. And I like always being with Annie, so I try not to think about what will happen when I'm not. But I can't hide my anxiety from any of the three other people on this train. Luckily, they all seem to understand that I don't want to talk about it, so they never ask.

I spend the night with Annie, but again, we don't do anything other than sleep. We don't even talk. We just hold each other and breathe each other in because I think we both know that soon we won't be able to. It feels like the night before Annie's scheduled enter into the arena all over again, except that now there doesn't seem to be any hope of a happy ending.

The next day, Annie and I sleep until noon and then sit in a bath of boiling water together until our skin grows pruned and wrinkly. By the time we get dressed – and this time I'm fully clothed in shorts _and_ a shirt – and head back into the main compartment with the dining table and living room couches, Dax announces that we're only twenty minutes away from the peninsula.

Those twenty minutes go by faster than any I've ever lived through. Time works that way sometimes; it speeds up when you want it to slow down, almost like it wants to remind you that no matter how determined you may be, you have no control of the things around you. This idea is particularly frustrating for somebody like me, because I also have no control over myself.

I can feel Annie growing excited beside me when the sight of the beautiful blue shines through the windows. If there is any place that can make her feel safe right now, it is here, and seeing her smile for the first time since before the Games is more than enough to make me sure that I'm doing the right thing. Her smile is worth every frown that will ever penetrate my heart.

The four of us step off the train and walk right onto the boat that's awaiting our arrival. Even the driver of the ferry is pleased to see us as he steers us to the pier, where a stage has been set up in front of the Justice Building just like the one that was used on reaping day. Peacekeepers are stationed at various points around the wharf and the beach below, but there are none this far out on the pier, since it is completely filled with the families of fishermen who finally have reason to celebrate.

Annie's standing on the railing of the bow as I hold her steady from below, and everyone is cheering for us as the boat is anchored. A walkway connecting the ferry to the stage is lowered for us, and we walk across it in a near run, each one of us feeling fueled by the wave of energy emitted from the crowd that is already a thousand times warmer than the ones in the Capitol were.

Mags and I stand on each side of a perfectly lucid Annie, all of us in a row behind Dax as he takes a microphone and yells into the crowd, "Thank you! Thank you all! Thank you, citizens of District Four, for sending us your best and brightest to compete in the Seventieth annual Hunger Games!" The screaming doesn't subside, and I don't think any of us want it to, as Dax steps away, reaches his arm out to Annie, and adds, "So, without further ado, here she is: the girl from the water and this year's victor, Miss _ANNIE CRESTA!"_

Annie and I have had our index fingers curled around each other behind our backs throughout the journey from the boat to the stage, and she waits for me to uncurl us before she takes one last look at me, sees my reassuring smile, and then steps forward for Dax to place a crown – the one she left too early to receive from President Snow last night – on her head and shoots her hand into the air.

I keep an eye on her for the next few minutes, but she doesn't even come close to throwing a fit. She is more herself than she's been since reaping day, with her eyes locked on the two people who have been waiting for her in the center of the crowd, and tears streaming down her face with happiness to have finally returned. There are tears all around her as well – salty water staining the cheeks of people to whom Annie has given fresh and eternal hope – and I try to take in every drop of water like each person standing on this pier is as significant as the ocean that encircles it, because they are. We might all be small and petty, but every last one of us comes from the same sea and the same world. We are all victors here.

Thinking such makes me look around as I attempt to take it all in, and soon I'm looking at Mags. She too is crying, but I don't sense the same elation in her as is in everyone else. Then I notice that her sad eyes are focused on a couple standing near the back of the crowd who seem to share her loss. I follow her gaze and immediately recognize the two people. They are those shop owners who used to have the most amazing son, who'd been avoided by so many people who never knew just how brilliant he really was. They are Kasen's parents. They are the two remaining strands in the Strand family.

The man and woman are beautiful in that even through their grieving, I can spot tiny sparkles of happiness shine across their skin as they look up at Annie and are thankful that out of all the people who could have, _she_ won after Kasen left. But there is also that irrevocable feeling that someone is missing, which I can see in the shadows of their eyelashes. I look at Mags and see those same shadows, and soon I feel them myself. That's when an idea comes to me.

Though at first I'm worried about how Annie will react, I decide that it can only help her when I remember what Mags told me about facing Kasen so that we can remember rather than forget. With this in mind, I hop off the stage and walk through the crowd that, for once, isn't paying any attention to me, and push my way to where the pier becomes the wharf. That's where I find Kasen's parents and shake each of their hands before leading them back the way I came and pulling them onto the stage with me.

Dax figures out what's going on after a minute or so, and then introduces the new additions by announcing the name Kasen Strand. The crowd goes silent then, but it isn't awkward or drowning. It is captivating and free. The quiet also seems to draw the welcome ceremony to a close, since of course the audience understand that Annie should be given the time to reunite with her family.

As people start filing out of the area, Annie doesn't need any encouragement to walk up to her father and sister and grab them in a prolonged group hug. Dax and I join them after a minute, though Mags stays behind to talk with Kasen's parents for a while. Once Annie is ready to move along, she huddles close to her sister, Myla, as the two follow Dax all the way to the Victor's Beach, where Annie's new home is waiting for them.

I walk at the end of the line alongside Annie's father, whose name I learn is Zealand. He's shaved since the last time I saw him, but he is still just as tall and burly as he was when he pinned me against the wall of the Justice Building on reaping day. We don't say anything to each other for most of our walk, as we're both too busy looking at Annie – Zealand admiring her mere presence and wondering just how broken she's become, and me knowing exactly how broken she is and admiring the smiles that I can tell are helping her heal.

It isn't until Zealand notices the way I'm looking at Annie that he finds out the truth. He hasn't had reason to accost me again since Annie's return, because I did what I promised him; I took care of her. But now, he can see just from my eyes that I might have taken more care of her than he permitted me to. I don't know what it is about fathers, because I never did have one myself, but when it comes to daughters, they always seem to be able to sense a threat.

"You love her, don't you?" Zealand asks me, catching me off guard at first because I was still busy staring at Annie. His tone isn't very friendly, and I quickly see that his expression is even less so as I turn to find blazing blue eyes and a jaw clenched as tight as a clam that's protecting its pearl.

I figure the best way to calm him down is to show that I can be just as protective as he can by straightening my back and answering strongly, "Yes. I do. I love her." We're far enough away from the others that Annie can't overhear our conversation, though I wouldn't care if she could. Regardless of how timid we've been around each other lately, we both know that our feelings haven't changed.

Zealand merely grunts and mumbles, "You know, I don't often change my mind about people." He's referring to the last time we talked, when he called me a piece of meat owned by the Capitol. Knowing what I do now, he probably shouldn't change his mind, but I also remember what Annie told Leo on one of their final days in the arena.

She said that she didn't change her mind about people, and claimed that it was a trait she had inherited from her father. But then she told me before my mentor interview that I had been her exception; she did change her mind about me. Trying to think more about Annie's perception of me than Zealand's, I say, "I know you don't. I'm just hoping that you can make an exception." Though he's kept his eyes facing forward so that he can see where he's going, we both stop in our tracks and look at each other when I add, "Annie did."

Neither of us realizes that we're standing on the soft sand of Victor's Beach until Myla calls her father over to gawk at their brand new house that's been painted Annie's favorite shade of amethyst. Before he reports for duty, though, he pats me on the shoulder and says rather sincerely, "Thanks for bringing her back, kid."

I nod and then let him go, watching him run after his daughters as they rush to explore the adorable cottage that sits right next to mine. I don't follow them since they deserve some privacy, though Annie does turn around to smile at me before she heads inside. While I'm nudging my head at her to get a move on, Dax appears in front of me and gains my attention.

"You should go inside," he says, but I can tell from his surprisingly imperfectly knotted bowtie that he doesn't mean inside _Annie's_ house. I don't even need to hear it when he tells me, "Your mother's waiting for you. The doctor says she can't wait much longer."

I'm already half way up the beach by the time Dax goes quiet, and soon I'm on the stairs that I used to carry her up every day, and I feel much lighter on my feet than I used to. Then I'm standing in the open doorway of Nola's bedroom, and she looks heavier than she used to. But she hasn't gained any curves or muscle; if anything, she's lost all that she ever had. She's heavy because her chest can no longer support her breathing, her graying hair can no longer find the strength to grow, and her fading mind can no longer hold onto all the memories that she's trying to keep from flying away.

"How are you doing today?" I ask as I tell myself not to cry and walk to her bed, which I climb into so that I'm laying half beneath her and half beside her. I know that she's been unbelievably strong these past few weeks because she needs me to be here for this, but I'm beginning to wonder if I can really handle it. That's why I decide to treat it like anything else, and to treat today like any other day, just like we would always do on reaping day when I would leave her, but when I wouldn't say goodbye.

"You're home," she whispers groggily at the feel of my arms around her scaly skin.

"Yeah. I'm home," I say to her, and I try to tell myself that I'm not lying. I am home, even if I won't be for long. And anyway, I can't lie to my mom.

"It's been a long time," she says. Usually, her dementia would keep her from knowing how long it's been, but I think that she's talking about more than just this year's Games. She's talking about all of the Games – all of the time that has passed since the day my own name was called by Dax Dirigible and the first day I left her without saying goodbye; all the time that has passed since the day we found out that she was sick and I decided to do everything in my power to make her better.

I let myself cry, more for her than for me since I know that she doesn't have the energy to do so herself, when she states, "I hate the Hunger Games."

"I know."

Then we're quiet for a while, each of us waiting for the moment that we're desperately hoping will never come, and eventually she tells me, "I have to go." She doesn't say that she'll see me soon, because she won't, and because she can't lie to me.

"I know," I say again, this time in between cracking sobs. But then I find myself thinking about something that Annie once asked me to say to her father in case she didn't make it out of the arena alive. As my mother drifts slowly into death, I say goodbye by letting her know that there will be someone left even after she leaves me.

"It's okay, Mom," I tell her, "I am loved. She loves me. I've been loved."

And as if those words are exactly what she's been waiting for, I feel Nola's heart stop beating beneath my shirt once I finish talking. It's funny, but I swear that her heart's final thump is louder than any other I've ever heard, almost like that very last beat has to pump more blood than usual. It's like when you take a giant gulp of air before holding your breath for five minutes, except that Nola's heart just pumped enough blood through her body to last a second lifetime.

I stay with her, or at least what used to be her, for a couple of hours before Mags finds me and makes Dax take Nola's body away. Then Mags just sits with me for as long as it takes me to stand up on my own, watching me tie knots on the bed with Kasen's rope until I've tied too many to unravel. We end up walking downstairs and outside onto my front porch, where I lean my arms against the railing and stare out at the full moon and the shooting stars reflected in the nearby water as Mags waits for me to say something.

I think that knowing my mother was going to die was half of the grieving process, because even though I do feel like a part of me is missing, I'm able to stand here and be okay as I open my mouth to say, "I have to go back, Mags."

She doesn't respond, because of course she already knew this. She's known for a while now, just like she was always the only person who knew about my mother's medicine. She knows what I'll do to protect the people I love, which I think is partly why she's always been so strong since she came into my life. She doesn't want to ever give me a reason to feel like I have to protect her.

When I can't think of what else to say, Mags sighs before finally speaking up. "I'm not the one you have to say goodbye to, Finn," she says. As we both catch sight of Annie walking from her house to the water's edge as if she'd rather swim than sleep, Mags adds, "You have to tell her."

Because I'm in pain, and because I don't want to be, I break down in front of Mags, taking my frustration out on her because I know that she'll forgive me for it as I whine, "And what about me? What am I supposed do? What am I supposed to do without her?"

"You do what you've _always_ done, since you were fourteen years old," Mags practically scolds me as she points a finger straight to my chest and tells me to do exactly what she's never wanted me to. "You pretend."

We stare at each other for a few seconds that turn into minutes and then I walk away from the woman who helped raise me just as my mother walked away from me, stopping at the stairs that lead to the sand to glance back at Mags and say, "Well, while I'm not pretending, I should probably tell you that I love you a whole lot."

Laughing as if it's the most ridiculous thing she's ever heard, Mags says, "As if I didn't already know."

Our mutual smirks are the last things we see in the light of my porch lamp before I've disappeared into the darkness, my toes warming as they become engrained in the sand and my entire body paralyzing as it becomes submersed in the sea. In this water, I finally feel like I'm not lying as I tell myself that I'm home.

Annie is further out, standing waist-deep in the same nightgown she wore before she entered the arena, its hem as tangled as her hair as it floats behind her in a string of white-caps. I walk slowly toward her, waiting to let the water settle around me with each step I take, until I'm close enough to find her hand atop the surface and clasp mine around hers.

"You really shouldn't creep up on people like that," she says without looking at me, her eyes locked on the ripples forming around our two hands that have become one.

"Sorry," I apologize. Then I stare at her – her bony body that somehow seems healthier today than it did yesterday, the tired eyes that are more awake than they've ever been, and the porcelain skin that is glowing beneath the stars – until she's looking back at me, which is when I tell her, "I'm leaving tomorrow. I won't be back until next month. But we have tonight."

She isn't surprised, and I didn't expect her to be. She understands, at least as much as she needs to, and I even think that a part of her doesn't want to know the rest. She doesn't want to know what I'll be doing in the Capitol or why I have to go back there. She doesn't want to know that I'm doing it for her, because she doesn't want to feel guilty for me like she does for Kasen, and she knows that no matter how hard she tries, she won't be able to stop me.

So, instead of making me answer a slew of questions that I don't want to have to explain myself for, she merely asks, "Are you scared?" And just like I told her while we were standing at the bow of the boat on reaping day, she adds, "Don't lie."

"I wasn't going to," I say in a way that makes her believe me. "Because yes, I am scared."

She nods. She knew I was.

Before she can ask another question, though, I continue, "But I'm not scared of the Capitol. I'm not scared of being alone. I'm scared of being with anyone else but you."

We're looking at each other again, and she uses her free hand to reach up and touch my cheek, and just her touch makes me suddenly feel pure. When I'm with Annie, I feel like my body is an ocean that only she can swim in, and everyone else who's ever tried to doesn't matter anymore, because they drowned in my richness. In my complexity. In my soul.

When I ask her, "Annie, why does it feel like the worst day of my life?" I add, "Don't lie."

And she doesn't lie. She answers in the most honest way that she can, because she knows exactly how I feel, by saying, "Because it's the first unreal day you'll ever have." I stand still and lean my head down to my chest as she floats around me so that we're facing each other, her hand still on my cheek, and wraps herself around my torso as she says, "Just promise me something, Finnick."

I hold her like I always have as I listen to her say, "Don't deny it. Don't lie. Don't pretend with me."

"I won't," I say. "I promise." Then I pull her closer to me and kiss her, and soon were splashing into the sea and swimming along with the current. The water is slow and gentle, the tide rising steadily until it reaches its highest point, and she's present, fully and completely mine. We never let go of each other, not once.

And Annie is right. I shouldn't wish to go back, and I shouldn't wish for us to be taken to the start. I shouldn't wish for my pain to disappear, because that pain is a sign that I've been loved. It's a sign that I have something to lose, and I'd rather have that than have nothing at all. I'd rather be torn away from Annie and look forward to our reunions than never have met her in the first place. Meeting Annie was the best thing that ever happened to me, just like being with her during those few days that I'll be permitted to return to our water will be the only real days I'll ever have. Annie is the only person with whom I can be myself, because she has taught me to accept… to tell the truth… to finally stop pretending.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Note: <strong>Again, thank you all for reading and sticking with me through this process. Your reviews have been amazing, and I've had a blast imagining and writing things through the eyes of our beloved Finnick Odair. Please do let me know what you thought of this last chapter or of the story as whole in a review, and don't forget to let me know if you're interested in a sequel. (I have one planned and there's a bit of info about it on my profile page, but I don't yet know if/when I'll start it, since I'm probably going to be really busy with school this year.)_

_And at that, I guess this is goodbye! I hope these words I've written meant as much to all of you as they did to me.  
><em>

_-Hailey  
><em>


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